I Am Mychele
by Mychele O'Carrik of Clonmel
Summary: A young girl with strange talents lives at Castle Clonmel. Her past is a mystery to most, and few know her connection to a certain grizzly Hibernian Ranger. When wills clash and tempers flare between Mychele and her "father", she takes drastic measures. What will happen when she runs in with the Ranger corps. in Araluen? NOT GIRL RANGER! Spoilers for book 8
1. Prologue

**Diclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice or any of the characters. I only own this plot and the OC Mychele, and I don't get any money for this.**

* * *

The wind stirred the leaves on the trees surrounding the small clearing; in its center sputtered a glowing fire. This particular woods of sorts was one of the few to be found in Clonmel. And a perfect place for hiding bandits!

Sitting disconsolately around the weak fire were four ragged, unkempt persons. Actually, one of the persons slumped rather than sat on the ground; he was bound and gagged: Captive! The slumped form moaned and wriggled closer to the fire. One of the men, a tall, muscular man in his forties, wearing a woolen shirt, sheepskin vest, leggings, and tall leather boots with a nasty curved blade in his belt, viciously kicked the captive.

"Lie still laddo, else ye'll be feelin' the flat o' mah sickle on yer mis'rable back," he snarled. "Arrat! We need mor' wood on t'fire; get on!" he commanded his similarly dressed subordinate, who looked about ten years younger than him. Arrat rose and picked up a hatchet which was lying nearby, grunting as he left the meager warmth of the fire and tramped into the cold to collect more wood.

The large man, obviously the leader of the group, turned to the youngest of the brigands- a scrawny, freckled young man in his late teens – and commanded:

"Billy boy, yer takin' first watch. Tie up that bag o' filth to a tree and stand guard."

Billy boy whined piteously. "Awww, I dun' wanna leave t'fire! Why d'ya gotta be so mean Barney?"

"Cuz Ah'll flay ye alive iffn ye don'! Get goin' ye scum!" said Barney.

Billy boy stood reluctantly to see to the prisoner's night accommodations. As the brigands settled down for the night, none noticed the pair of dark eyes watching from the tree to which Billy boy had tied the prisoner.

_No-one ever thinks to look up…_


	2. I Am Mychele

I Am Mychele

King Sean of Clonmel stood looking out over Dun Kilty, his capital, through an open window. He inhaled deeply the crisp morning air, watching the light of dawn tinge the sky pink as a stiff breeze swept the sleepiness from the air.

_It's mornings like these that remind me why I love this country so much,_ he thought.

Three years ago, Halt, Sean's erstwhile-unknown uncle, came to Clonmel to eradicate the Outsiders- a fake cult that ransacked the countryside and tricked the townsfolk into giving them their gold. After his brother Ferris was murdered by the Outsider's, Halt refused his rightful throne, leaving it instead to Sean.

In the short time Sean had known his uncle before he left, the young king had recognized beneath Halt's taciturn exterior a true heart- courageous and selfless. Since then, a royal wedding had taken place: to the great joy of his people, Sean wed Lady Meredith of a neighboring kingdom. Though it hadn't been a necessarily political alliance, it had certainly helped the treaty that soon formed between the two kingdoms.

Just as he was thinking of her, his wife approached him quietly, still clad in her dressing gown, and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Sean, I'm worried about Mychele; she's been gone a fortnight already." Her gentle brows creased in concern. Sean covered her hand with his own comfortingly, disguising his own worry with a confidant voice.

"Mychele is a strong girl; she knows how to take care of herself. I'm sure Captain Peter will find her soon." Then he added in a darker tone. "Though I certainly have a word or two to say to her when she comes back."

"Please, don't be too hard on her Sean."

He laughed, casting a look back at her. "And you don't be too soft on her." Before either could comment further, a loud knock sounded on the heavy wood door.

"Enter!" said Sean. Captain of the guard, Peter McNamara, entered and came smartly to attention.

"We have found the Princess Mychele, M'lud."

* * *

Five minutes later, King Sean descended swiftly to the throne room. On his brow was the plaited leather band that was the crown of the kings of Clonmel; he was kilted with the O'Carrik tartan over a blue silken shirt. The purple, green, and blue plaid crossed over his chest and draped over his right shoulder, leaving it to billow behind him like a cape. Meredith followed slowly, a sad look on her youthful face. The beautiful queen was clad to match her king in a blue silken dress, which contrasted wonderfully with her heavy auburn waves. Circling her smooth, high, brow was a shining plait of gold set with a red gem in the center a gold-wrought rose. Together, they made a striking picture of Hibernian justice and romanticism.

Sean sat on his throne, and Lady Meredith quietly seated herself beside him; a maid draped a tartan over her protruding stomach; she was pregnant with their first child.

Sean's thundercloud face turned to the person in front of him:

Standing in defiant posture in the center of the room, accompanied by two guards, was a small, lean, person clad in a dark cloak, and the only thing showing beneath it were their leather boots. Slung over this person's shoulder were a quiver and a small hunting bow.

"Come here Mychele!" said Sean. The lithe figure obeyed, drawing back the hood of her cloak as she did so. Thick, long chestnut hair spilled out in a messy tangle.

"Yes Father?"

"Mychele O'Carrik, care to explain what you've been doing this past fortnight?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" she answered indifferently, gesturing to a small figure behind a column. A little boy came forward, grubby and tearstained. He hurried over to Mychele and timidly hid in her cloak.

"This boy was captured by three bandits after they'd ransacked his home and killed his parents. No doubt they planned to sell him as a slave. I tracked them and ambushed their camp by night. They pursued me when I freed Steven, so I shot one in the arm and another in the chest. If I hadn't been scouting about-" Sean cut her off.

"Scouting? So that's what you've been up to? That which I expressly forbid you to do?" he said angrily.

"Yes Father, scouting! And a good thing too; else Steven would now be a slave in another kingdom. He, your own subject!" She brazenly defied him.

"That is not the issue here Mychele. **You. Must. Obey. ME!"** he roared.

"Even if at the cost of a life?"

"You could have sent word and the guard would take care of it."

"How would I know to send word if I hadn't been scouting?" She thrust out her chin belligerently. "Your men can't do what I do. They haven't the skill or aptitude, and I do. So why do you command me not to?"

"Because you are a lass! Barely fourteen years old!"

"I'm not like other lasses." Mychele's voice was suddenly quiet. "I'm different. I am meant to do this. Just look at me!" She threw her arms wide, stepping closer to the throne. "Look at me and deny it! My limbs are firm and strong, I can endure extremes as no other lass, and some lads, can. I'm quick and agile, and I have a natural talent for tracking and bowmanship. Do you know any other lass who can do all these things, has all these gifts?"

All the while she spoke, Mychele's voice rose in intensity and volume as she came closer and closer to the throne.

BANG! "ENOUGH!" Sean's fist pounded on the armrest of his regal seat and he stood tall like an indomitable mountain.

"You will not leave this castle again until further notice! In fact, you are to be confined to your chambers until I say otherwise. Captain McNamara, escort the princess to her chambers," he roared. Queen Meredith burst into tears, and ran from the room, weeping uncontrollably.

A shocked expression on her face, Mychele allowed herself to be lead away by the Captain, out of the room and up the long flight of stairs to her room. The kindly captain followed her. He was an especial friend of hers, and she was fond of him like an uncle.

"There now Mychele," he began. "You really shouldn't-"

Before he could say another word, Mychele burst into tears. Peter was shocked; the last time he'd seen her cry was when she was thirteen, and she'd fallen from her horse into the river while trying to jump it. She'd broken her arm, and when it had to be set, only two bright tears reluctantly squeezed out as she bravely gritted her teeth against the pain.

Now, she wept violently, her shoulders wracked by the heaving sobs. Overcoming his surprise, the middle-aged man stroked her hair gently and rumbled in his deep voice.

"There, there. It's alright."

"N-no it's n-n-not! Sean doesn't understand!"

"Your father-"

"He's _not _my father!" she snarled.

Peter merely carried the exhausted girl over to the bed and laid her on it, then stayed by her side stroking her hair and muttering soothing words until her anger gave out to sleep.

**A/N Alrighty, there's the first chap.:3 Finally got this this published, after a ton of editing frm my ol' notebook...the only thing that stayed the same, word for word, was the prolouge.(except the dialouge. I changed that a bit and took out unessesary bts) I'm still workin on changing up a bunch of plot issues, but it'll work out.:) Oh, an just to make it clear, Mychele isn't an illigit child or anything like that. Just noticed it seemed a lil ambiguous... Enjoy!**


	3. Aedan is a Genius

Aedan is a Genius

In the dead of night, and owl hooted.

Mychele stirred in her sleep, taking a few moments to fully awake. She had slept as one dead, but the moment she was awake, she knew her fate.

"My life is now lifeless," she whispered. All in the room was dark, save for the shining of the stars through her window; the moon had set hours ago. Standing in the window, face upturned in unmeaning expression, for once Mychele was thinking about absolutely nothing.

A light tap sounded on the door. Keen ears catching the slight, but distinct sound, Mychele turned her back to the stars and said in a low voice, "Come in."

A girl, wearing a floury apron and white cap, entered; a young man in the livery of the royal stables followed her in.

"Ellen, Aedan!" Running across the small space, Mychele flung herself into the open arms of her friends.

"We heard all about it, Mychele," said Aedan. "The whole castle was talking of it far into the night."

Ellen uncovered the darkened lamp she had brought in and set it down on a nearby table.

"How do you feel? Are you alright?" she said, surveying Mychele in the lamplight, concern was evident on her face.

"I'm…well, I'm as well as can be expected," Mychele said with a small shrug.

"Dear," said Ellen. "You don't look alright. And you smell like horse, sweat, and dirt." Her face flushed with emotion. "Thank goodness you're back!" She hugged Mychele tightly. "We were so worried about you! Right Aedan?"

"Yeah, you were gone for longer than usual. I was about ready to risk the anger of the stable master and go after you!"

Mychele shook her head. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Aedan scowled. "Yes, and look where it got you. You're lucky you weren't killed, going after kidnappers like that!"

Mychele flared. "I don't regret it! I do what I have to. I can't help it if Sean reacts like this!" she faced the tall boy defiantly. Hastily, Ellen stepped between them. Often, she wondered how two such hot-tempered people managed to be friends.

"Aedan, quit it. Mychele is tired and mentally worn out," she hissed at her younger brother. "Give her some space."

"Fine," he said shortly, turning away briskly. When Ellen turned back to Mychele, the girl was slumped in a chair with her elbows on the table, head in hands.

"Is that what I am? A worry? A troublesome burden?" Frightened by Mychele's broken speech, Ellen hurried to the small girl and crouched by her side.

"Don't say things like that Mychele. You aren't a burden, but you do worry us so. You're so small, and it would kill us if something happened to you. You're like family."

Ellen was the third eldest girl in a family of nine children. Her parents worked a farm, and her elder sisters were both married off; Ellen herself worked in the castle kitchens for extra pay. The big girl was simple and dependable. Mychele often wanted snacks and such when she was going out, and had met Ellen one day in the kitchens as she was trying to sneak freshly backed sweet-loaves from the windowsill. Mychele had taken a liking to the good-tempered girl, and Ellen's kind spirit reached out to the girl, wanting to protect and help her.

Aedan, a year younger than Ellen and the eldest boy, had helped their father on the farm until the next eldest boy was old enough to take his place, while Aedan was hired in the stables so that he could make more pay. Mychele was often in the stables, and became fast friends with the boy, seeing in him a like interest for horses and woodlands. As Ellen had noticed, both were hot-tempered and acted on impulse; Ellen sort of mothered the two, her sweet, dependable nature balancing out their hasty, snarky ones.

"Ellen, I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't survive like this! And how will I practice my archery, or ride Lona; and Hannah will be expecting me to come!"

Hannah was an old woman who lived outside of Dun Kilty; she knew anything and everything there was to know about healing and herbs. The villagers often went to her for help. Mychele had stumbled upon Hannah's cottage while riding one day, and stopped to ask for water. The slightly eccentric woman had agreed, upon hopeful request, to teach Mychele all she knew. Since then, Mychele had been to the cottage every day she could, with Sean's wholehearted approval, and had learned much in two years.

"Sean knows how important it is for me to go to Hannah. I'll never again let someone die as mother did while I stand by useless," she said.

Ellen and a much-quieted Aedan glanced at eachother; they were some of the few that knew of Mychele's true parentage.

"What are you going to do about it Mychele?" said Aedan. "There are guards everywhere out there. The only reason we got in is because the captain knows that we're your friends, and figured you could do with some company."

Mychele looked up from studying her hands. "I…I'll leave." She looked him straight in the eyes, and he saw the determination there.

"I just told you, you can't leave this room! There are guards- wait, you mean, run away?"

Before she could answer, Ellen burst out. "Oh no! You can't Mychele! You can't disobey The King like that, and wouldn't it just break kind Queen Meredith's heart!" she said pleadingly. But Mychele was unwavering.

"I know," she said softly. "But I must, Like I told Fath- Sean, I have to pursue what I was meant to do. I would kill me to stay here; not because I would yearn for the outdoors, but because I wouldn't be fulfilling my purpose. I truly believe it's my purpose."

"But would you disobey your father? Leave never seeing your baby sister?"" said Ellen.

"You know very well that he's my cousin," said Mychele, a hard expression on her face. "But I will miss Lady Meredith…"

Until now, Aedan listened wordlessly, pondering Mychele's idea. "So you're set on it?"

"Yes."

"I think you should do it; the question is _how._"

Ellen glared at her brother. "You're not helping here Aedan!"

He ignored her, pacing over to Mychele. "The problem is, you're a girl."

"Not you too!" said Mychele angrily.

He held up his hand pacifically. "Hold on a minute; first off, a girl travelling alone is more attention getting; you'd be recognized instantly. Second, a girl is an easier target for bandits and kidnappers. I know you're well capable of fighting, but how many encounter do you think you'll go through coming out on top? It's too risky. Thirdly, sailors won't take a girl on board."

"Sailors? Why would…"

"Because, you're going to Araluen." Aedan looked pleased with the reactions on Ellen and Mychele's faces.

"Araluen? Why on earth would she go to Araluen?" said Ellen. Mychele turned to Aedan expectantly.

"Because there is less chance of you being recognized, and it's the last place Sean would expect you to go. If anywhere, he would think you'll go to Lady Meredith's home kingdom or Picta."

Mychele nodded, impressed by his reasoning. "I know another reason why I should go to Araluen," she said.

Aedan rolled his hand to say "go on".

"Because I can find Halt."

Aedan nodded in understanding. "If only you were a boy…" he mused. Mychele looked at him sharply.

"A boy! That's it! May be half mad, but I don't see any other way…" Her two friends stared, but Mychele ignored them as she strode quickly over to the window and breathed the clear air, as if to clear her mind. Still with her back to them, she spoke half to herself.

"Yes, it's just insane enough to work." She turned and beckoned to Ellen and Aedan. Grabbing one of their hands in either of hers, she leaned in and spoke secretively. "Aedan, you're a genius! I can escape to Araluen dressed as a boy."

Ellen was shocked silent; Aedan merely nodded, warming to the idea.

"Yes, it's perfect! I can get you some boy's clothes, my old stuff will be a bit big on you though, and Ellen can provision you from the kitchens and help you with your disguise. I have access to your horse, and you still have your weapons. It's perfect, I'm a genius!" he grinned.

Mychele smiled in return. "You are that Aedan."


	4. That's Sir Arrat to Ye

That's "Sir Arrat" to Ye

Arrat and Billy rode quickly through the night. The biting cold stung them, but they didn't stop: a troop of castle guards were pursuing them a half days ride away. Billy constantly whined to stop and take a rest, but the older, stoic-faced Arrat ignored him and pressed on.

"Ratty, when d'we get t'this Arooleen place?" said Billy in his thick Hibernian accent.

Glancing behind him, Arrat eyed the young man for a moment, then turned forward again. "We'll be at the coast by noon t'morrow. Then it'll take us two days on t'water to reach Araluen. And that's Sir Arrat to ye." He said.

"Why d'we gotta go t'Arooleen?" asked Billy.

"Because that's our instructions. 'If Barney is somehow killed, come back to headquarters in Araluen."

"Ah can't believe that wee kiddo managed to shoot Barney like that. And it got yer arm too! And where did them guards come from? Well, leastaways we don't got t'worry 'bout ol' bossy-boots Barney no mor'."

Neither spoke for several minutes.

"Can't we take a wee rest now Ratty?"

Arrat once again glanced back. "That's Sir Arrat to ye."

**A/N Sorry, but you get a filler chap. :P I needed to somehow tell what these two are doing…**


	5. Alias

Alias

"Oh no! You can't!"

Startled, Mychele and Aedan turned to Ellen; her face was flushed and the corners of her eyes were moist.

"So dangerous, all alone, not even your identity to yourself!" Mychele stared at her in bewilderment.

"Ellen, why are you crying? Please don't, I hate it. Don't you see? This is my only choice."

"If your only choice is the wrong one, do you still do it?" said Ellen.

"I- I don't think-I don't think it's wrong. I don't fit into this life, I'm like different kind of person. It's better for everyone if I leave anyway. Especially now."

"You do belong here! You have us, Aedan and I are your family. Who will you have to stand by you in Araluen? And disobeying your Fath…guardian like that, I think it _is_ wrong Mychele. You may regret it for the rest of your life!"

"And if I don't leave?" Mychele retorted. "What then? I _know_ I'll regret it!"

"Why Mychele?" Ellen's voice grew desperate.

"I..._I can't stay here!" _ Mychele suddenly exclaimed in a low, emotional groan. Crouching to the ground, she held her head in her hands. "I can't…"

Aedan stopped his resumed pacing, and Ellen gently knelt by Mychele after a moment's hesitation. "Why? Why can't you stay here Mychele?" she said.

Simply shaking her bowed head, Mychele made no answer. Aedan leaned one hip on the table and slowly crossed his arms.

"I think I can answer that," he said. "Imagine yourself in her position; Mychele's lived sixteen years without real parents. Her father absent and her mother sickly, she's had to be her own support, her own guidance. That's why she doesn't get along with Sean; she's independent. She's afraid not to be. " He addressed this to Ellen, but his eyes bored into Mychele's back. "Besides which, the only connection to her real father is in Araluen. And that connection, is Halt. She needs this, for her own peace of mind, if nothing else." Nudging Mychele with his toe, he said, "Am I right?"

Bounding up, Mychele glared hotly at him. "Don't assume so much! How do you read me so well?" she said contradictorily.

"So I'm right."

Smack!

"Ouch! Don't hit me Mychele! That hurts," whined Aedan with a grin, grabbing her wrist so she couldn't hit him.

"It's too annoying when you do that! Idiot, I have another hand you know!" Mychele stopped mid-smack when a sigh escaped Ellen; she looked up at them from her seat at the table.

"I'll help."

Aedan grinned, still holding Mychele's wrist. "Then you'll leave tomorrow night."

* * *

Lying as if asleep, Aedan listened to the soft snoring, or not so soft snoring, of the other stable-hands in the loft where they all slept. When all was quiet and he was satisfied that his fellows were deeply asleep, Aedan rose slowly and reached under his mattress, grabbing the bundle he'd assembled earlier. It contained boy's clothing and other things that he thought would be useful to Mychele.

Clasping the precious bundle to his chest, he crept among the mattresses, avoiding the places that squeaked. Once, he tread loudly, causing the plank to screech so as to wake the dead (at least, so it seemed to his ears). The sleepers, however, took no notice.

Thanks to his station, he worked in the section of the stable where the royal mounts were kept; most importantly, this meant that he had access to Mychele's horse. He saddled the mare, Lona, and muffled her hooves before leading her behind the stables, where he darkened her well-groomed coat with ash, then left her to await Mychele while he continued to the castle.

Aedan took a deep breath. _Here goes. No turning back now…_

"Hello sir," he said, smiling easily at the guard.

"Ah, it's you lad. Come to see your sister again?"

"Yes sir; my work makes it difficult to visit her in the day."

"Ah know son. Well, will she be there to let you in?"

"Yes sir, at the back door, as always." Though he addressed the guard as "sir", Aedan's attitude was enviably casual.

"Very well, don't stay too late lad."

"Actually, Ellen and I are going home tonight, as we have the day off tomorrow. If you don't mind, let the guard at the gate know when you change shift?"

"No problem lad. Take care of yourself now."

"Thank you sir, and the same to you," he nodded at the man and passed on to the kitchen. Ellen let him in, and they snuck up the stairs, Ellen hiding Aedan's bundle in her voluminous apron, and carrying a tray, as if bringing Mychele a late tea. Once they were let in, Aedan went into the adjoining sitting-room while Ellen assisted Mychele.

Carefully binding Mychele's slim figure, Ellen bundled her in warm layers of clothing. Then, as Mychele crossed and tied the last thong up her shin over sheepskin boots, Ellen reached for the shears to cut off Mychele's beautiful hair. Her stomach feeling leaden, Mychele quietly sat down on a stool and tightly shut her eyes.

"Don't spare it. Cut it all short," she said ruthlessly.

Ellen snipped away, and when the locks were left lying on the stone floor, and Mychele stood up and opened her eyes, it was no longer a young lass who stood shaking in the moonlight, but a capable looking youth*:

Long fringe framed her smooth Hibernian brows, and the hair trimmed increasingly shorter further back until the ends barely curled on her neck. Ellen put a hand to her lips and took a step back.

"Land's sake Mychele, I'm the one that did it, but I don't know what to say! Look at your reflection in the glass."

Turning her head to survey her cropped hair, Mychele struggled to make a casual comment. "This is great Ellen! I can hardly call myself a girl, now that my only beauty is gone," she said with a forced grin. "My head feels so light and airy too." She tossed her head, noting the strange sensation of not having long hair swishing behind to accompany the action.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Mychele. Don't' worry, you haven't lost it all; here, hold out your wrist," said Ellen.

Mychele did so, and Ellen slipped a plait of the cropped hair over and secured it with thread. "There," she said, "now you can keep your pretty hair."

Mychele hugged the kind girl impulsively. "Thank you," she whispered. Ellen knew, though it wasn't spoken, that Mychele was thanking her for more than the circlet of hair.

Pulling back dry-eyed, Mychele called for Aedan to come in. He walked in the room and stopped short.

"Your hair…"

A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth. "I didn't tell you we were planning to cut it, did I?" she said. Reaching out, Aedan fingered the shorn locks.

"What a pity. I suppose it was necessary." He noticed the sadness in her eyes. "What's wrong Mychele? I thought you didn't care about girly things?" he teased lightly.

"It's a bit silly, but my mother always said I inherited her hair; it's the only likeness I have- had to her," she said.

"Even if it's all shorn off, it's still your mother in you. Just remember that, and think of it long and flowing." Aedan said comfortingly. Mychele smiled.

"Thanks Aedan."

* * *

Anyone watching what happened next would have seen two strong boys stripping the sheets and curtains from the room, and tying them together to form a makeshift rope. Forming a loop in the top, the shorter boy hung it on the lantern hook in the window frame, and assembled various small packs.

"Here Mych-"

"It's Michael now, remember?"

"Right, Michael," said Ellen, "It feels so unfamiliar. Well, here Michael; that's your maps and such, and here's your medicine bag."

Mychele took these and strapped them on. Aedan and Ellen would take the larger baggage with them for the next part of the plan.

"Michael, I'm still not quite sure about this next part. Could you go over it again?" asked Ellen.

Aedan leaned back against the window frame, casting himself into shadow. "Yes, do go over it, Mychele O'Carrik, alias Michael Carey," he said from the shadows. Mychele looked up at the moon, and approximated the time.

"Right, we have around ten minutes until I start. About two stories down, there's a landing with a guard post," she said. "When the shift changes, it will take exactly 84 seconds until the next guard comes. I will lower myself down with the rope, and let myself in the door, which isn't locked between shift-changes. When I let go the rope, Aedan, you pull it up as fast as possible and both of you go down to the stable as if you're going home with some stuff in the load-cart, but harness Lona to the cart instead of the usual horse. Then I go left around a bend in the passage, the new guard comes, I run right, and make my way down to the back door that leads to the back kitchen garden, and then I sneak my way around to meet you two behind the stables, I hide in the back, you drive out the gates, and we're free," she finished.

"Oh dear, are you sure it'll work?" said Ellen. Aedan slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Quit worrying Ellen. Michael's plan is perfect. Now all we have to do is wait. It's best if we don't talk until then, while the plan is fresh in our minds." he said. Accordingly, they fell silent, and when Mychele judged the time right, she leaned out the window and watched the guard close the door behind him. With that, she wrapped the rope around her waist, keeping it taut with one hand, and leapt out the window, descending as Ellen looked away nervously.

Dropping the last few meters, Mychele landed cat-like, slid the door open, and disappeared from sight.

_It's all in your hands now Mychele, _thought Aedan as he pulled madly on the rope.

Swinging the door open, Mychele hurried into the dark passage and darted to the left as the approaching footfalls grew louder. Mentally thanking Ellen for reminding her to pad the bottom of her soft leather boots with down to further muffle her light tread, Mychele allowed herself a sigh of relief as she heard the latch click and the footsteps cease.

* * *

Aedan and Ellen hitched the cart to a disguised Lona, and awaited Mychele anxiously, though Aedan showed no sign of it. He stared into the unrelenting darkness, searching for the familiar shape of the girl. Suddenly, Mychele emerged from behind him. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Did I startle you?" she grinned.

He strode past her with a huff. "You're late. Get in the cart, we have to leave."

The guard stopped them at the gate.

"Halt! Is that you Aedan laddie?"

"Sure is Stan."

"Ah, right, Ros told me you'd be going out tonight. Be safe out there laddie."

"Thanks Stan, g'night to you."

They disappeared into the night, riding away from the castle, taking Mychele from Dun Kilty, from Clonmel, from Hibernia, for she little knew how long.

*in this sense, a young boy.

**A/N This chapter has been revised. I was gonna include another part of her escape, but it was too long from what I had in my ol' notebook. So, prolly one more chap, then she's in Araluen. :) I bet all of you are sooo wondering who her dad is. Mwahahahahaha :) Srry for late update btw, but I'll try to get better. This one was rlly hard to write. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and plz review again! **** be critical y'all. ;)**


	6. He's a Ranger

He's a Ranger (Stars)

Clattering noisily on the rough forest path, the little pull-cart flew along faster than it ever had before. Mychele shoved aside the baskets and canvass that had been hiding her and gripped the back of the driver's seat as if her life depended on it, which it did.

"Aedan, where are we going?" she asked loudly above the precarious bumping and jolting.

"Quiet!" he hissed, "Don't speak so loudly. We're going to stop at my family's farmstead. Don't argue with it, my mum has more supplies for you. Did you think we'd be able to smuggle enough for you at the castle?"

"We don't have very long Aedan, I need to be well away before morning."

"I know. Just get back down there until we arrive."

Soon, they came to the small tidy farmhouse, and Mychele jumped out of the cart before it came to a complete stop.

"Hullo, didn't know you were in on the plan," she said to Aedan's mother. "sorry but I'm in a rush," she breathed out hurriedly.

"I know, I know. Here, take these bags. This is more old clothing for you- no, no, we absolutely don't need it. My boys don't fit anymore. Here's food and more forest herbs. Take it dear, be safe," said the understanding woman. She was generous and kindly, and had the same intelligent hazel eyes as her eldest son. Mychele frequently visited the them, and considered them as her own family. The young children gathered around, watching silently as Mychele made ready to leave. One little girl began to sob. Mychele picked her up and balanced the tousle-headed girl on her hip. This family was a soft-spot she didn't like to admit she had, especially the children.

"Don't cry Su, you can't miss me too much, alright?"

"Wiwl ya come back t'me 'Shell?"

Mychele hugged her. "I hope I will, one day. Will you remember me until then?"

"I, I fink so."

"Good. I won't forget you either Su." She quickly hugged and kissed all the little faces and then returned to Aedan's mom. Unclasping a thin gold chain from around her neck, Mychele she held it out fatalistically; hanging from it was a small pendant, in the center of which was set a beautiful blue and green opal. Aedan's mom silenced her before she could speak.

"I know, it's your mum's, from your father. I knew you wouldn't take it with you for fear it'd give you away. Aedan came last night and told me everything, so I prepared this for you." She held out a small pouch hung on a leather thong. Gratefully, Mychele dropped the pendant into the pouch, cinched it, and hung it over her neck, tucking it into her tunic.

"Thank you for everything, God-by-you*"

Ellen was right behind her mother, and Mychele hugged her tightly, at a loss for words. Though she had known these people for only three years, she felt as if she'd known them all her life, and they'd supported her and been a guiding hand to her in a tough time; now she couldn't find words to express her gratitude.

"G- God-by-you Ellen." Mychele turned and walked out without a backward glance as Ellen sobbed heavily.

Outside, Aedan had un-hitched Lona and saddled her up. Shivering in the cold wind, Mychele slung the remaining bags over the saddle packs, and laid her strung bow over the pommel. Then, she turned to Aedan.

"I guess this is farewell," he said sadly. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Mychele shrugged further into her cowl; Aedan couldn't tell what expression she wore.

"Mychele?" A small sound escaped from between tight lips, but instead of speaking, Mychele turned and tried to mount Lona. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

"Wait, you can't just leave like…" Something clicked in his head, and he looked closer, pushing the cowl back: tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. Fiercely, she pulled him into a hug and buried her face in his jerkin**, nearly choking on her effort to subdue the tears. If anything, Aedan was grateful she couldn't see his shocked face. Eventually, he started wheezing in the crushing hug, and pulled her back. Ignoring the snot she left all over his jerkin, she wiped her nose grubbily and glared up at him, as if daring him to be amused; but, she saw sympathy in his look. She dropped her eyes.

"Aedan, I'm wondering now if this is the right choice after-all. What if Ellen's right, and I regret it all my life? What if I never come back?"

"I didn't think you'd be one for last-minute regrets," he teased. "just trust your decision, and stay strong. If your don't have conviction, nobody can have it for you."

"Y-yes; but, Aedan, I may never see you, or Ellen, or Meredith ever again! I want you to know, just in case, if I ever had a brother, he couldn't be better or dearer than you are to me," she said, constantly hiccupping.

"And you, Mychele. You're a brother, a sister, and…and everything else, to me. We'll miss you, but you're doing this because you have decided on your life; don't lose resolve. Not now, not ever. If you do that, I know you can rise above even the stars."

"That's where mum is, I know she's watching. I wonder what she would think of her daughter now."

"I think," said Aedan "that she would tell you to do what is right. I know you can."

She looked at him earnestly. "I'm not as strong as you think. But, we draw strenght from our ancestors, right? I think I can trust my stars there." She grinned wryly; the O'Carrik clan was one of the oldest and strongest in Clonmel, and everyone had heard of the legendary warriors who were Mychele's ancestors. "Aedan, Promise you'll never forget me, and always remember me when you look up at night and see the starry sky."

"I promise. I'll never forget you Mychele, even if I never see you again," he said seriously.

"And I know I'll _never_ in my life forget Aedan McOwens. I _will_ return; nothing but death could stop me," she promised. Sniffing noisily, she added "Funny, and I always thought I wasn't one of those romantic Hibernians. Guess it in the blood." Aedan grinned wryly at that.

"Aye, never thought I'd see the day." glancing up, he amended "The night that is."

Although her cheeks were still wet, Mychele was now dry-eyed; hugging Aedan strongly, instead of needily. Pulling back, Aedan reached out to dry her cheeks with the corner of his cloak, but she pushed his hand away brusquely, turned, jumped on Lona, and rode away into the black night.

Ten minutes later, Aedan still stood there, looking after his last sight of her. Despite her promise, he felt it was the last time he would see her.

"God-by-you, Mychele."

* * *

Will Treaty was on a scout mission. Every so often at irregular intervals, he or Halt would take a few days slow tour of parts of the large fief. Since it was a sort of scouting mission, the Ranger would ride silently, track through wood and over plane, quietly, ears and eyes alert. Many times such "routine" camping trips had given them crucial information, which played a crucial role in defending the fief. Since it was, however, _Rangers_ at work, the exercise could hardly be called routine.

This time, Will was scouting near the coastal boarder between Araluen and Hibernia. He had risen hours before dawn to get a start on the day before breakfast. Every sense on alert, nonetheless Will would've looked completely relaxed and off-guard to an observer; merely on a ride in the countryside. Dismounting, Will lead faithful Tug, his horse, into the trees at the side of the road.

_About time you dismounted to feed me. Any chance of an apple?_

"Tug," Will replied quietly "You know what Halt says about apples; and this early in the morning too!"

_Who cares what Halt says? Is he still your mentor?_

The subject of Tug's apple consumption had long been one in debate between him and the grizzly Ranger. Shaking his head, Will relented. "I suppose I should give you an apple then. It has been awhile since we stopped. You must be hungry."

Will carefully gave Tug a rub-down before feeding and watering him in a collapsible nose-bag. As much as he wanted to sit down and have a cup of coffee, Will knew this was the best time to catch law-breakers unawares in their camps.

"I'll be back in an hour, Tug."

So saying, he merged into the trees, disappearing from sight in moments. Will knew that he wasn't far from the border, where no-good thieves, shipwreckers, and the like often camped. They figured that the farther away from the castle they were, the less chance they had of being caught. They figured wrong.

Creeping along without his mount, Will knew he had a better chance of catching such evaders of justice unprepared. Accordingly, he soon came upon two such people.

"Ow's yer arm farin' ol' Ratty?" said a nasally voice.

"Shuddup Billy. And that's _Sir_ Arrat to ye." growled another. A few feet from a well concealed Will, a small fire burned. Around it sat two scruffy looking ragamuffins roasting waterfowl.

"Eny'ow, how'd ya manage to get shot by that wee kiddo, Ratty? Imagine that, mighty 'Sirrah Rattie' getting' shot by an arrer. Ahaha!" the former voice sniggered; Will saw this was a lanky, freckled youth.

Arrat, and equally freckled heavy-set man, began to rise. "That's it, say yer prayers Billy, cuz I'll…"

"…Sit right back down like a good bucko, and tell me what your business is in Araluen." Will emerged suddenly from the trees, using the element of fear to great advantage.

Billy gasped. "H-h-h-he j-j-just came outta th-th-th-the tree Rattie!" He quivered with fear. Arrat stood paralyzed.

"You haven't answered my question Billy: what is your business here?" Will's voice was low and harsh.

"I-i-i-it knows m-m-m-m-me n-n-name!" Now Billy was truly terrified. Rolling his eyes skyward, Will exhaled loudly.

"It would seem so, now wouldn't it?"

"Yu-yu-yuss yer majesty."

"Tsk, tsk; don't go 'yer majesty-ing' me. Now," Will's pleasant tone changed in an instant.  
"Answer my question!"  
Closing the distance between them with a deceptively quick step, he had Billy's collar in his fist before anyone could blink. Arrat began to inch away, slowly backing up to a redwood. Without turning, Will's arm curved in a fluid arc, and Arrat found _his_ collar pinned to the tree by Will's throwing knife.

"Didn't I tell you to sit back down, Arrat? You folks never listen, do you?"

Arrat gulped. "N-no sir."

Will sighed. "That was rhetorical. Not that you know what that means." He turned back to Billy. "Now, you were answering my question? It's not nice to keep a Ranger waiting, you know."

Arrat blanched: The legendary reputation of the Rangers had spread even in Clonmel ever since the affair of the kings of Clonmel, as it had come to be known.

"Yer one o' those sorcerer folk? You better tell him what he wants t'know Billy Boy!" he said.

Will smiled a cold smile. "Yes, tell me Billy Boy."

*This is the old form of "goodbye"="Godby"="God-by"="God-by-you"="may God stay by you" from what I can gather…just thought it'd be more period-appropriate. :)

**A jerkin is a type of long vest type-thing

**A/N THis capter has been revised and reposted, but nothing much changed plot-wise. I just fixed up some stylistic things and un-sppified Mychele's farewell. Please review!**

**~Mychele-who-needs-reviews**


	7. Water Poisoning

Water Poisoning

Just before nightfall, the small fishing boat pulled into the Araluen port to sell their catch. Among the crates of fish, a boy unfolded himself from his cross-legged position and stretched. He found the captain in the gathering gloom, and handed over two gold coins.

"Ah, laddie, ye've paid me too much," said the honest fisherman.

"I know sir, keep it as a token of thanks for taking on a strange boy."

"Thankee son, yer a nice lad. Be safe now, y'hear? It's a strange country to ye iffn this is yer first time."

"Thank you sir, I'll take heed to keep my wits about me. G'night to you."

"Aye, g'night laddie," he returned. The boy made his way down the gangplank and stood still a moment, taking in the busy waterfront. He started to walk in the direction of a nearby inn.

"Ah, wait!" called the fisherman. The boy turned back inquiringly. "Ye never told me yer name lad!"

Grinning, the boy tipped his cap to the man. "My name's Michael, sir. G'night." With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Bit by bit, and with much menacing, Will managed to gather a mostly true story from the two thieves. The bits that he figured were false, Will had been able to replace with truth gathered from what he'd heard before making himself visible. As far as he could tell, he was dealing with murderous kidnappers on the run from Hibernian authority.

They stayed the night at an outlying hamlet, and the following afternoon, Billy constantly whined as they trudged along behind Tug, their hands tied in front with a rope connecting the two, which was in turn fastened to Tug's saddle.

"Please sir," whined Billy. "Can't we take a wee rest? We're fair famished and awful thirsty like."

"Aye sir, can't we have a bit o' a meal?" joined Arrat.

"Of course not!" Will said cheerfully.

He ignored Billy's whining and Arrat's grousing and rode onward. Will estimated that they would reach the castle before nightfall.

After a while, Tug turned his head to eye Will sidelong. _Please kind sir, can't we take a wee drink?_

"Alright Tug," said Will, laughing, "We'll stop for some food and a drink. I'm getting hungry too." He stopped abruptly, sending Billy crashing into Arrat as Will dismounted, earning himself a kick in the shin.

"Owowow, Sir, Rattie kicked me 'e did!" Will paid them no heed as he unfolded Tug's bucket and poured a generous amount into it from his canteen.

Tug viewed him critically. _So, you'll grant a horse's request before a man's?_

"Wouldn't you agree, Tug, that murderers and thieves don't deserve to be treated like normal men?" said Will after a moment's consideration.

Tug shook his mane in agreement. _Alright then, hurry up with the oats already! I'm an honest horse._

Grinning, Will tipped up the canteen to drink, but only a small trickle came out._ Hmm, looks like that's the last of it. I'll refill at the next stream. _"You two, we'll stop at the next stream to have a meal, so shut up until then," he stated, ignoring the moan from Billy and Arrat's dark muttering.

They resumed the journey and soon came upon a slow-moving brook, and there Will refilled his canteen and poured some into the gaping mouths of Arrat and Billy. Building a fire, Will prepared a delicious stew with dried beef, wild onions, and edible woodland herbs. He also allowed himself a cup of coffee to slack his thirst. The stew simmered, sending up savory aromas that made their mouths water, and Will generously measured out stew to Arrat and Billy, then resumed sipping his hot coffee.

They reached the castle soon after and Will handed them over to the jailer, and temporarily stabled Tug, drinking from his canteen as he did so before going up to make his report to Halt and Baron Arald.

"If they hadn't committed trespassing," the baron said, "I would send them back to Hibernia to the jurisdiction of King Sean. But, they will have to be tried here first, I'm afraid. Ah, their type is my least favorite to deal with," he grumbled.

"I'm sure many would agree with you there sir," Will said, "But what will you do after that?"

"I think," put in Halt, "That they should pay a fine, or if they can't do that, serve a punishment here, and then be escorted to Hibernia."

Arald considered this. "Hmm, what sort of punishment?"

"I would throw them in a moat first," said Halt, stroking his bead meditatively without a hint of a grin, "And then put them to work in the fields for a time."

Arald grinned. "I am, ahem, aware or your fondness for moats, but I think manual labor will suffice." Standing, he offered a hand to Halt and Will. "Thank you again Halt, Will, once again I see how essential you Rangers are. I hope you have a peaceful evening both of you. I pity you, Will, going out in that bitter wind," he shook his head.

"Thank you sir, I'll be careful not to get sick. Alyss mothered me to death last time."

"Ah yes, Lady Alyss asked me to tell you that she's already gone back to the cabin, so not to look for her here."

"Alright, goodnight Sir."

Will and Halt parted ways at the bottom of the stairs. Retrieving Tug, Will ventured out into the biting autumn wind. Just as the cabin came in sight, Will suddenly felt light headed and swayed in the saddle. Tug neighed in alarm and turned to look at his friend. Quickly, Will leaned over the side of his horse and vomited, heaving again and again until he could hardly breathe. He tried to clear his throat with more water from his canteen, but he only heaved more violently.

Head spinning, Will suddenly found that the world around him was turning upside-down.

_Why would it do tha…_

THUNK! Will fell off the opposite side of Tug and lay moaning in the loam. Tug pranced and whinnied nervously. A low shape shot out of the darkness: it was Ebony, Will's black and white Shepard dog. She snuffled and whined, licking Will's face in concern. Seeing that the dog was with Will, Tug galloped to the cabin and neighed loudly. Alyss rushed out, throwing a woolen shawl around her shoulders.

"Tug!" she said, worry etched on her features. Noting Tug's empty saddle, worry turned to sickening fear; fear that nearly stopped Alyss's heart cold.

"Will, where's Will?" she said frantically. Tug reared and kicked his hooves in the air. Realizing that he could take her to Will, Alyss whispered the code-word to Tug. Will had told it to her when they began to go on missions together, in case of emergency, but she had never needed to ride Tug before. Until now.

Swinging into the saddle as Tug tossed his mane in acceptance, Alyss allowed Tug to take her wherever he would. Terror clutched her heart at the sight of Will, prone on the ground in front of her. She nearly fell from the saddle herself in her haste to kneel by his side.

"Will, what happened?"

Will rolled over onto his knees; immediately as his body was in the air again, he vomited.

"I don't know," he gasped "I have no idea what happened!" he shuddered violently and rolled onto his back again.

"Me and Tug will get you back to the cabin, don't worry!" Alyss said. Unslinging his quiver and canteen to make it easier to lift him upright, Alyss tossed them aside and was about to lift him under the arms when Will's vision latched onto the canteen.

"Water! It must be bad water!" he said, "I refilled it at a slow brook. It must be water poisoning."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the wind shook Alyss: water poisoning was caused by bad water often taken from slow moving streams or ponds. No one knew what caused it exactly, and in bad cases, it could be fatal.

Shaking aside the thought, Alyss hooked her elbows beneath his arms and pulled back.

"I'll just get you in bed and see what I can do," she said, as much to reassure herself as Will. She had difficulty in lifting him, as he was almost incapable of supporting himself. Even though he was a head shorter than her, he was heavily muscled thanks to his Ranger training. Surprisingly, Tug helped by latching his teeth onto Will's cowl and pulling up with his muscular neck. Alyss again assisted Will to climb into the saddle. She swung up behind him to keep him from falling off, and rode to the cabin. Will staggered inside, clutching a bucket from the porch, while Alyss quickly bedded Tug down in the stable.

Hurrying inside, she took off Will's cloak and boots and settled him in the bed. Immediately, she put her somewhat-limited herbal skills to use, preparing a strong brew of feverfew and mint. She bathed Wills' forehead and chest with it when it had cooled, to bring down his rising fever, and tried to have him drink some; but he instantly vomited it.

"What can I do if you can't keep it down? Will, do you know anything about it?"

He tried to speak, but constant heaving prevented him, and a splitting headache fogged his head until he couldn't remember a scrap of Ranger field-medicine. Alyss's herbal knowledge was basic, and she didn't know what else she could do to allay the sickness.

"Halt!" Alyss exclaimed suddenly. "Halt probably knows what to do. But I can't leave you, Will…"

Scratching the door open, Ebony darted into the bedroom and leapt upon the bed, snuffling and pawing Will.

"Easy girl, easy," Will coughed. Suddenly, an I deal dawnedon Alyss:

"Ebony! She knows how to find Halt. I'll just write a quick message." Scribbling on a piece of paper, she rolled it up and tucked it into Ebony's leather collar:

Will's sick, I don't know what to do.

~Alyss

"Ebony, find Halt!" said Will, flopping back on the pillow exhaustedly. Barking in reply, Ebony rushed to the front door and scratched frantically at it. Alyss hurried to open the door for her. The brisk wind captured the soft knot of hair on her neck, flinging it loose, sending the golden waves cascading down her back to ripple in the wind as her shawl was blown to the floor. Motionless, she stood on the porch, staring up at the moon: it was a full harvest moon, huge and dominating in the velvet sky. Alyss was bathed in the warm orange glow; somehow, she drew comfort and hope from the all-embracing light as she breathed a silent prayer that the sickness wouldn't claim Will's life.

**Enjoy :)**

**~Mychele**


	8. Healer

Healer

Whether in a stone walled room in the middle of a castle, or on the open planes surrounded by unknown, Halt was alert; even in sleep. Never off-guard, ever ready to wake with prompt reaction. A faint scratching awoke him; his eyes opened automatically, though he remained motionless.

_Scratch, scratch- _ followed by a soft whine. Halt sat up evenly, picking up the saxe knife at his side, and approached the outer door of his and Pauline's living quarters. The whine repeated, louder now that he was by the door. Un-bolting the door, Halt opened it to Ebony's furry face, tongue lolling. Immediately, knowing something was wrong, Halt swung the door open fully and admitted the anxious hound. She circled his legs, pawing at him and whining.

"Down girl, settle down."

"What's wrong dear?" Pauline appeared from the bedchamber, wrapped in a dressing gown. Espying the dog, her brow creased in confusion.

"I'm not sure…" said Halt. Grabbing her collar to keep her from jumping on Pauline, Halt's hand fell on the rolled up parchment. He pulled it out and unrolled it on his way to the window, making out the contents easily in the bright moonlight.

"Cream, butter, eggs…"

"Wrong side, Halt dear."

"I knew that," he muttered, flipping the paper. " 'Will's sick, don't know what to do. ~Alyss' ."

Halt was out the door in less than a minute. Ebony on his heels, Halt rushed to the healer's guild quarters, and knocked loudly and persistently. He would have walked right in if not for the lock. A sleepy eyed youth answered the door; the sight of a grim-faced Ranger soon wakened him.

"Ah, Ranger sir, can I…"

"Where's the head healer?"

"I'm sorry sir, he's not at the castle. He and the other masters are attempting to quell the recent epidemic to the north."

Swearing, Halt turned away angrily. He'd forgotten about that blasted epidemic. Turning back, Halt faced the boy aggressively.

"You. You're an apprentice?"

"Y-yes sir."

"What year?"

"First year sir."

"Are there any fourth-years around?"

"No sir. They're all away. Sorry…"

Halt was already gone. Going to the stables, he saddled Abelard and went to the front gates, off at a mad gallop before they were halfway open.

_I know a-heck-of-a-lot more than any first year._

* * *

Mychele stayed one night at the waterfront tavern-cum-inn, keeping a low profile and sitting in a dark corner when she had dinner. Attentively, she listened to the talk of the sailors, as much to learn what she could of the fief as to accustom herself to the accent. She wanted to be rid of her telling Hibernian brogue as soon as possible; it may not be unusual at a coastal town like this, but once further inside the country, she didn't want to be so obviously foreign.

A young girl, probably the tavern keeper's daughter, served Mychele's meal; staying her, Mychele inquired where the castle was located, and what the region was called. Obligingly, the girl informed her that the castle was a day and a half's ride away eastward, and that this fief was called Redmont. Thanking her, Mychele paid for the meal with a silver coin, the smallest currency she owned; the incredulous look that the girl gave her reminded Mychele of the main reason she needed to find the castle: it was the only place where she'd be able to exchange all her conspicuous gold for smaller coins.

The following morning, Mychele rose early before anyone else was up and had a simple breakfast, this time sitting at the bar, once again paying the tavern keeper with a silver coin, also telling him that she would be taking some oats for her horse. Apparently the coin covered both, because he bit it experimentally, stashing it in his money purse once satisfied that it was real.

"Better be careful who sees them coins boy," he grumbled warningly. Mychele merely nodded, feeling that being particularly polite would draw attention to herself. She went to the stable behind the tavern to see to Lona, lounging outside the front of the building while she waited for Lona to finish.

A group of young, grubby looking ship-hands were sitting nearby. Mychele noted that they had been in the tavern the previous evening. They started whispering and glancing over at her, and eventually a taller man lead the others over to her, crossing his arms smugly.

"We saw your fancy coins. What, a rich brat are you?" he sneered, "Maybe those coins are too heavy for a little boy like you, so We'll have some of them. Consider it a favor." His cronies guffawed with him, greedily trying to see where the coin purse was.

"Oh, I think I can manage the burden," she retorted mildly, reminding herself that it wouldn't so to get angry. She was grossly outnumbered.

"Oh ho, so it's a _Hibernian _rich brat," he said with mock amazement. Then the smile disappeared. "Enough smart-talk kid, let's 'ave it now."

Hesitating, she shrugged and pulled out the heavy sack from its concealed place within her cloak. She held it out to the tall man.

"As you wish…"

As he reached for the sack, suddenly Mychele ducked and swung the purse at his leg, hitting him behind the right knee. It buckled, making the man stumble with a cry of surprise. The other sailors yelled indignantly , reaching for her. She jumped backwards and turned to run. A hand latched onto her cloak; instantly, she whipped out her dagger and slashed the man's wrist. He let go with a yelp, and she leapt over a pile of stacked crates nimbly, placing them between herself and the group, allowing her time to un-sling her bow from her shoulder and nock an arrow. Aiming deftly, she fired a shot between the feet of the nearest man. The sailors came to a stumbling stop en masse. The tall man from before tried to stand up, but Mychele nocked another arrow, this time aiming straight at his face.

"Keep back. What I have is my own and no business of yours. Don't follow." She turned and ran to the stable, hastily saddling Lona, and galloped off.

* * *

As Alyss paused for a minute on the porch outside, a dark shape accompanied by loud rustling emerged from the trees and brush at the side of the path. By the light of the moon, Alyss identified the shape as a horse and rider. A slim figure dismounted, their face shadowed by a cowl.

"Who are you?" Alyss asked.

The figure pulled back the cowl, revealing the face of a boy; he held out his hands disarmingly. "Just a traveler who lost their way to the castle of this fief; I saw that man fall from the horse. Did he say it was water poisoning? I have been trained in healing, I can help you."

Alyss remained pensively quiet while the Hibernian spoke. Hugging her arms against the wind, she said, "That's correct, he has water poisoning. I have sent for his friend, but if you know healing then I think we will need your help. What is your name young man?" Her tone betrayed nothing of what she thought.

"Michael Carey." He replied, "So, can I help you?"

Just then, Abelard galloped up and came abruptly to a stop. Halt dismounted swiftly, dashing up the steps, glancing at the boy as he passed.

"Who's the boy?"

"He says he knows healing, and he saw Will fall form Tug earlier. I want him to help."

Halt glanced back at the boy indifferently, then walked inside. "Then he better hurry up."

Mychele tied Lona to the veranda post and hurried after Alyss, who followed Halt inside. She noted with interest the longbow and cloak Halt sported. Though Sean had only reluctantly and seldom spoke of the Rangers to Mychele, she remembered that they wore distinctive cloaks and used longbows.

_Just like that other man, Will, _she thought. Halt and Alyss led her into the bedroom and Mychele quickly loosed herself of her bow, quiver, and cloak, then opened the pack that contained her tools. She rolled up her sleeves and began to ask questions professionally.

"What symptoms does he have?"

Alyss answered. "Lots of vomiting, fever, and dizziness."

Mychele felt Will's forehead; he appeared to be past speaking, though he opened his eyes occasionally as he turned fitfully and retched into the bucket.

"If you have cool water," Mychele addressed Alyss. "Then bring a bowl of it and soak a cloth in it please." Alyss went outside to the water barrel as Mychele selected various herbs and ground them with a miniature mortar and pestle while Halt stood grimly by the bed, watching Will and eyeing the newcomer by turns.

Alyss returned with the cold water and placed the icy cloth on Will's forehead at Mychele's instruction. Wordlessly, Mychele noted that on Alyss's left hand fourth finger was an ivory ring, on top of which were carved a laurel branch and an oak leaf set with a blue and a green stone, also noting the masculinized copy of it on the same finger of Will's left hand, sans the stones.

Busily working without comment, Mychele suddenly recalled one of Hannah's lessons:

"_Now, people get uneasy when you start workin' an' they don' know what you're doin'. Talk to them as you work an' tell 'em what you're gonna do."_

"I see you tried feverfew and mint tea," she began. "Good idea, but I'll bet he vomited it?" Alyss nodded. "Well, do you have fresh charcoal? If you would grind some up and have him swallow it, it will calm the retching and let me give him some tea."

"Charcoal? You want him to _eat_ it?" Alyss repeated quizzically.

"Yes. I don't know why, but it's helpful when it comes to stomach trouble. In addition to the fever few and mint," she continued, "I'll use a bit of motherwort and wild valerian. Careful with motherwort though, too much can be fatal."

"Then you better know what you're doing boy," Halt said ominously. The first words he had spoken since he'd entered the cabin. Nodding nervously despite herself, Mychele measured the motherwort with excessive care.

* * *

If Halt and Alyss wondered about the accent, neither commented on it as the boy ministered to Will, alternately applying herbs in various ways and cooling the fever with the cold water. But, Halt noted, he only gave Will water that had been boiled to drink. Alyss also noticed this and inquired about it: Michael explained, "For some reason, it's better for upset stomach."

Within an hour, Will became reasonably comfortable, though understandably exhausted, and the vomiting stopped. Michael accepted Alyss and Will's thanks quietly, recommending that Will go to sleep. So saying, he left the room, shortly followed by Halt; Alyss remained by Will's side.

Halt stared at the boy for a while, Michael meeting his gaze with no small amount of discomfort, then spoke:

"Alyss says you are welcome to stay the night. I'm going home, but just you try something funny boy and you'll regret you ever laid eyes on Ranger Halt." The ice in his eyes betrayed no idle threat. He turned without another word and disappeared into the night.

* * *

"You'll regret you ever laid eyes on Ranger Halt."

Mychele started. _So that's Halt…_

* * *

_"Hibernia is the classical Latin name for Ireland." _~Wikipedia

**A/N Sorry for any confusion about switching between Michael and Mychele, he and she, etc. When I was writing form Halt and Alyss's perspective, it seemed more natural, but then I have to add some split or page break when going back to Mychele's perspective. :P Let me know how it works. If it's too confusing, or it just doesn't work well, PLEASE tell me. I won't get any better if y'all don't tell me how awefull such-and-such was.;) Enjoy! **


	9. What it Takes

What it Takes

Halt rode away from the cabin, brow creased in concentration. Something wasn't right about that boy. He thought the kid reminded him of something, or someone. Who though? He'd hardly taken his eyes off of Michael, it was that troubling. And the accent, bringing up reburied memories little over three years suppressed, didn't help.

_I'm sure he reminds me of something unpleasant, _he thought to himself moodily.

Reentering the castle and taking care of Abelard, Halt walked into his room and slouched into a chair wearily. The life of a Ranger was unforgiving; anxiety and lost sleep were familiar to Halt, but no less taxing. Coming up behind him, Pauline rubbed his shoulders soothingly.

"What was the matter? Is Will alright?"

"Yes, he's fine now." Halt told her what happened, and especially about Michael.

"There's something unpleasantly familiar about him, but I can't place it," he grumbled.

Pauline boiled water and made tea. "Coffee at this hour is out of the question. Just have some hot tea. What about him bothers you?" she said, returning to the subject.

"I don't know, maybe his face?" said Halt, his frown deepening. "It reminds me of…" his voice trailed off and he glared at his reflection in the straight-sided coffee pot of tea. "Myself…"

Pauline leaned forward. "Of you? Are you sure?"

Incredulously, Halt shook his head. "I don't know how that's possible unless we're related somehow, or it's huge coincidence. How could we be? I'm almost certain though; he looks vaguely like me," he reasoned. "But, also, when he heard my name, I saw him start. It must be familiar to him, which at the very least means he's from Clonmel."

Thinking for a moment, Pauline laughed softly. "What's so funny?" demanded Halt.

"You just said he reminded you of something unpleasant."

"Well?"

"And that he looks like you."

* * *

Mychele sat heavily. _He's the one, that's Halt! I knew I'd see him here, but I didn't expect it so soon!_ she thought, somewhat shocked. Alyss came out of the room and saw Mychele sitting on the wooden chair at the table, head in hands.

"Oh, I guess you're pretty exhausted," she said sympathetically. "I can get you something to eat if you're not too tired for it."

"That'd be good, thank you," replied Mychele, looking up with a small smile to conceal her turmoil. "Is your husband asleep now?"

"Yes, very peacefully thanks to you," smiled Alyss. "Though I'm a bit curious: what brings you to Araluen? You must have just arrived from the coast," she asked, her natural courier's instinct wanting to know more.

Mychele told her the carefully worded story she'd prepared for just such a moment. "My parents are dead, and I eventually decided that there wasn't a life for me there anymore, so I came here."

"I'm sorry. How did they die? Was it during that affair three years ago, when all those ransackers were killing people?"

"Ah, yes. My parents both died around that time." She carefully avoided the exact details. "You've heard of it even here?"

"Well, yes. Most people aren't acquainted with the matter, but I suppose you've figured out that Will is a Ranger?" Mychele nodded. "He was over there at the time, taking care of it, so naturally I know of it. " Alyss paused a moment. "So you're from Clonmel," she finished. Mychele realized her gaffe too late, but acted as if it wasn't important.

"I am. Yes, I figured him and the other man are Rangers," she said casually, pretending not to know Halt's name. She didn't know that Alyss had heard Halt's warning from the other room. "They are spoken of with awe in Clonmel. The Rangers. If that is Will," she continued. "Then the other man is…Halt?"

"Yes." Alyss decided to throw the boy for a loop. "But, didn't he tell you that?" she smiled disarmingly. She wasn't trying to be rude, but she wanted Michael to be more honest. She liked him, because he reminded her of Will at this age, and she felt that he was hiding something. Something that would cause him to escape all the way to Araluen.

Rubbing her neck sheepishly, Mychele shrugged. "Well, yes. Sorry if I don't trust you right away. You're a Ranger's wife, you understand."

"I do, and I don't blame you," Alyss said kindly. "But I hope you can trust us soon. If you need help or advice, I can give it. I am a Ranger's wife, after all." Her eyes smiled humorously. She poured some tea and served toast and cheese. "I hope this is alright. After you eat, the bedroom is right across from Will's. I'll bring an extra blanket, and you can go there whenever you're ready." She left Mychele to her bread, cheese, and thoughts.

_What should I do now? I know where Halt is, but what should I do? Well, in any case, I need to go to the castle tomorrow to get rid of this gold._

With this plan in mind, Mychele finished her meal and retired exhaustedly.

* * *

The next morning, Mychele awoke to the sound of a creaking door, a groan, and a muffled curse. She sat up blearily, gazing at her unfamiliar surroundings. Light poured between the curtains, and Mychele realized she'd been so tired after the long ride and the ordeal of helping Will most of the night, that she'd fallen asleep fully clothed. Blinking, she noted a small chest of drawers and a washstand with flowers on it. She splashed her face with the cold water and dried it, then went out tentatively. Another groan sounded, and she stepped out of the short hall to see Will standing by the stove, doubled over.

"Are you alright sir?"

Will looked up sidewise at her and grinned a little. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I was trying to reach the cabinets. My stomach's still sore is all."

"I should think so sir, after all that vomiting. If you need to reach that cabinet, I can do that. You shouldn't be up so soon anyway."

"Sure, thanks. Oh, and just Will is fine." So Mychele ended up helping Will cook breakfast, quietly so they wouldn't wake Alyss just yet. Will didn't try to ask questions, just chatting pleasantly until Mychele was completely at ease. He poured himself coffee.

"D'you want some? It very good, If I say so myself," he grinned, lifting the mug to his lips, scalding hot.

"Ah I wouldn't drink that hot…"

Too late. The fiery liquid coursed through Will's raw insides, making him splutter and double over on the floor.

"Y-yeah, I think I'll wait till it's cool."

Eventually, Alyss got up, and they ate eggs and ham with bread. Throughout the meal, Alyss and Will chatted and joked lightheartedly. Mychele already liked the cheerful pair a lot, but constantly warned herself not to slip up around them. Accordingly, after helping to clean up the meal, she retrieved her things from Will's room where they had been left, and hurried outside, having noticed practice targets out the window.

Nock, draw, aim, shoot. Mychele fired several arrows one after the other, landing four near the center, but most in the third of four rings. As she was aiming the eleventh arrow, a gentle pressure on her shoulder shifted her posture. Whipping her head around, she saw Will close behind her.

"How did you…"

"Here, move you're grip up a bit." He ignored her, sighting along her aim, and firmly adjusted her grip on the bow. Confused, Mychele allowed him to correct her, facing back to the target.

"Now," Will continued. "Draw as you breath in, sight the target in under five seconds, and release as you exhale. You won't be used to it, so it might not go straight right away…"

Thunk! The arrow hit on the edge of the inner circle. Will gazed after the shot.

"…Well done. Try again."

Inhale, draw… "Pretend you're squeezing a small nut between your shoulder blades." Mychele tried again, concentrating on her shoulder muscles. Exhale…Thunk! Repeat, correction, shoot, shoot, shoot.

Finally, Mychele hit a perfect bullseye. Triumphantly, she grinned up at Will.  
"That was a perfect shot, right?"

"Yeah, it was. Y'know what Michael?" She waited expectantly. "A regular archer practices until he gets it right, Rangers practice until they never gets it wrong."

"But I'm not a Ranger." She frowned confusedly.

"Well, even so, if you want to be a perfect shot, you should use that rule too," he conceded with a thoughtful expression.

Mychele shot a few more arrows, landing all but one somewhere in the center circle, but as she drew again, Will noticed her arms shaking; he proposed she take a break, and demonstrated longbow shooting for a while. Every shot landed perfectly, never the same of the ten targets twice; he even did a couple of diving-shots. Dumbfounded, Mychele fingered the bowstring over her shoulder, wondering how she'd ever be that good. Laying down his bow, Will retrieved their arrows, and jogged back to where Mychele sat, breathing evenly. He grinned.

"That's what 'never gets it wrong' looks like, thanks to Halt."

"Was he your mentor?"

"Yes, and he's sort of a father too." Mychele had learned from Alyss that they had grown up in the orphan ward. "What else can you do?"

"Well," Mychele replied, "I can climb pretty well, fight with daggers a little, and ride. But," she continued "Doesn't your stomach hurt? With all that shooting and running?" She'd noticed him wincing every so often.

He waved away her words. "It takes more than that to stop me." he said grinning. "Hmm, climb pretty well?" Musing, he stood and aimed an arrow high up on a pine tree 30 meters away. He fired it near the top, sending pinecones hailing down. "Can you climb that high and bring it back?"

"I think so." Will raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I can," she amended. Will nodded in satisfaction. "How about in 120 seconds?" Incredulous, Mychele was about to protest, but saw the appraising challenge in Will's eyes. She stood up resolutely, crouching in a ready stance. "Try me."

Will counted a start, and at three, Mychele bolted, pumping her legs furiously as Will counted loudly. Reaching the base of the pine, Mychele spat on her hands an rubbed dirt in, immediately gripping the rough bark since and shimmying up, feet as far on either side of the tree as the would go. The soft leather gripped the bark easily, but after 5 meters, Mychele's arms were burning. After 10, they were screaming for a break. But she pressed on, all 40 meters up to the arrow; it got easier after she reached the branches that started high up though. Briefly, she shook out her arms, yanked out the arrow, and dropped it clear to the ground, before beginning to shimmy down.

Half-way, she spotted movement at the ground: a fat black bear shambled into the clearing, not far from the tree. But, it was out of Will's sight because they were both across the clearing at an angle, so that the stable blocked the bear from view. Startled, Mychele realized that Lona was grazing freely, oblivious of the bear approaching from behind. A bear that was fattening for hibernation.

Quickly, Mychele realized that in her haste she hadn't unslung her bow or quiver. She hooked her right leg over the a branch on the left side of the tree so that she was facing the bear, bracing her other leg behind the trunk. Her arms freed, she took up her bow, aiming for the bear's back. She knew it would have almost no effect if she did hit, but Will would realize something was wrong by then. All she needed was to distract it. Her arms shook violently as she pulled back, but the bear was getting closer to Lona, apparently downwind of the clueless Shetland. Mychele gipped the bow in her teeth, furiously shaking out her arms to get the blood flowing. They stung and ached; she almost sobbed in frustration. She breathed deeply to steady herself. Inhale, draw, aim…fire!

The arrow zipped straight to the bear, hitting its broad back. It looked up in confusion. Mychele quickly fired another arrow, hitting near the last one, but falling out of its thick fur without damaging the bear. Enraged, the bear squinted up at the nearby pine, clambering over to enact revenge on the creature that was poking him. Nonetheless, she fired three more shots, missing the last when her arms gave out and the bow dropped, clattering, bouncing out of sight. The bear reached the base of the tree, being awarded with a bonk on the snout from the hard bow. Roaring, it began to climb the tree.

* * *

Will watched in approval as Michael crossed the clearing swiftly and disappeared into the tree line. Soon, he was in sight again, ascending the tree. Reaching the arrow, he shook out his arms, sitting on a limb, and removed the arrow. He dropped it to the ground and began to climb after it.

_Excellent. He's thinking well._

Somewhere in the middle, however, he stopped. Frowning, Will glared hard at the small figure, trying to see what he was doing. He sat on a branch and tried to use his bow. Finally, he shot an arrow behind the stable, followed by a few more. Already running, longbow in hand, Will flew across the clearing; as he passed the stable, instantly he saw the bear. Will aimed, but it ran into the tree line.

_No, that's bad…_

"Michael! Climb back up! NOW!" Michael looked down at Will, then directly below. His eyes widened in horror and he hastily began to reach for a higher branch. Will never took his eyes off Michael as he neared the trees; when the boy tried to pull himself up, he yelled painfully and lost his grip. Falling backwards, his foot hit the branch he'd been sitting on and slipped over it. The last thing Will saw before entering the trees was Michael looping his legs around the branch desperately.

Will reached the tree, already with an arrow nocked; he sighted the bear, only 8 meters from Michael, who was upside-down, fruitlessly trying to reach the branch. Will Released an arrow, which thudded into the bear with a satisfying smack, and ran around to the left side; an arrow in the heart would end it.

He shot rapid fire, four arrows drove home. With an agonized roar, the bear toppled to the ground, smashing through branches. It hit the ground with a crunch.

Discarding his bow and quiver, Will shot up the tree with practiced ease. Once he reached the branches, Will was nearly leaping from one to the next, desperate to reach Michael before his strength gave out and he followed the bear. Will pulled himself onto the branch right under him.

"Hold on!…"

Michael's legs released their hold.

"NO!" Reaching out, Will's strong arm snagged around Michael's waist. But, his weight pulled them both from Will's precarious perch. They fell a meter- and stopped suddenly.

Will's hand gripped the branch tightly. Sagging against him limply, Michael sighed in relief. Will's first thought was a blind _thank God!_ His second was-

_Now that's what it takes to become a Ranger._

* * *

**A/N 2,528 word without author's note. Yup, I'm rather proud of this chapter.:3 But please remember, THIS IS NOT A GIRL RANGER FIC! As always, please tell me what you think!:D (btw, the last a/n was meant to say "such and such" at the end, not "such and suck". I fixed it though.)**


	10. What Halt Should Know

**A/N Thank you to all the reviewers! I'm so glad ppl like this!:3 And special Thanks to Bralt, who's been helpign me when I get stuck. I shoulda said that before...Bralt get's a million smileys!:):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):) P.S Anyone remember "Cliff Hanger" from Between the Lions? *ahem*  
"Will, Treaty, hangingfromaTREE!...And that's why he's calle**d **Will Treety!"**

What Halt Should Know

_What now?_

Will hung from the branch with one arm, holding Michael in the other. There were no branches close enough to stand on, so Will gripped Michael's jerkin and heaved him up on the branch, then pulled himself up in front of him. Michael lay flat along the branch, exhausted, but fully conscious. He looked up at Will.

"How are we going to get down? I'm not sure I can climb…" he said reluctantly.

"Of course not. Let me think," said Will, leaning his back on the trunk.

"I would have you hang on my shoulders, pig-a-back like little kids do, but I don't want to risk you falling again." After a moment, he tugged lightly on Michael's quiver strap.

"Is this the double strap kind?" Araluen Rangers and most military archers used a type of strap that had two belts, one passing under the arms and the other diagonal over the right shoulder.

"Yeah, it is. Do you want to use it?"

"Yes, I have an idea. Sit up, you can balance on me since you don't have anything to lean on." Michael did as he said, leaning forward with a hand on Will's knee while Will loosened the buckle on the diagonal strap. Then, he turned to face the tree, slipping the strap over his head as well, so that the chest strap still held Michael securely, but both wore the shoulder strap. "Hold on loosely just in case, I'll do the climbing, so just relax," he instructed.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Yeah."

Trusting to Will's judgment, Michael hung his arms limply around his neck while he began to climb down, going slowly to be sure the extra weight didn't slip him up. They reached the ground safely to find Alyss waiting at the base.

"I saw through the window. What happened to Michael?"

Will gingerly set Michael down and removed the strap. The boy leaned against the tree, looking annoyed that he was so shaky.

"Sorry Alyss, I was testing him and forgot that he would be exhausted after last night. I woke him up early too," he apologized.

"No, I shouldn't have got carried away with a challenge," said Michael. "Thank you for rescuing me by the way."

Alyss interrupted whatever Will was about to say and wrapped an arm around Michael's shoulders supportingly.

"Can you walk? And don't worry about that, I'm sure if something stupid happened, it was Will's fault," she said jokingly.

"I can walk, it's mostly my arms that feel like custard."

They entered the clearing, and Lona trotted up, whinnying. She seemed to understand what had happened, smelling the bear's blood on the air. Michael wrapped his arms around the pony's neck, whispering into her shaggy mane.

"I was really scared for you Lona. Silly girl, not smelling a stinky bear."

While Michael was buried in Lona's mane, Tug walked nonchalantly up, holding an apple by the leafy stem in his mouth. He held it out to Lona, who crunched it happily. He tossed his mane in horsy approval.

"Tug, quit flirting with the lady horse," said Will. All three laughed, walking back to the cabin. But, Michael paused by the stable.

"Um, can I stay out with Lona?"

"Are you sure?" asked Alyss with concern. "Your hands are all scraped up, and you must be exhausted."

It was true, Michael's hands were dirty and scraped raw.

"Yeah, I wanna stay out with her."

"Well, then I'll bring water to wash your hands and a blanket." With that, Alyss and Will disappeared inside. Abelard was in front of the veranda. When they opened the door, Halt was sitting at the table helping himself to Will's coffee, leaning back on the chair legs.

"Hullo Halt. Didn't you say leaning on them would loosen the legs?" grinned Will.

"Yeah, that was when they were mine. I don't care if they're yours." He said. "And stop making that joke, it's getting old." He raised the coffee pot for more, but Will snatched it away, exclaiming "Halt, Halt! That's my coffee!" Halt frowned. "And so is that joke." "Just like you."

Alyss ignored their bantering and walked past to get things for Michael.

"Those two will never grow up."

* * *

Lona crouched down on her knees, and Mychele lay her head on the pony's side.

"Don't scare me like that. That bear could've eaten you," she whispered, talking to calm herself more than anything. Stroking the thick fur, Mychele curled up against her horse. She really was exhausted; the day before had been spent in the saddle, then the long night, and early rising. The mental strain of the past few minutes left her completely drained, and she would've fallen asleep if Alyss hadn't come out with a bowl of water, a mug, and a blanket.

"Sorry about Will, he gets carried away easily. Though I must say, he must have seen something in you to get him so interested," said Alyss, gently cleaning Mychele's grubby palms and applying simple ointment to the scrapes. She handed her the steaming mug, which Mychele sipped gratefully, and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders in a motherly way.

"Thanks. That's alright, I'm pretty hasty. This kind of thing happens to me a lot. I wonder what he finds interesting about me." Yawning hugely, Mychele hunched into the blanket, drinking the hot tea with slightly shaky hands.

"Michael," began Alyss. "I have a question, you don't need to answer, but what are you planning on doing here? How will you find means to support yourself? You don't seem like you would just be a worker."

"To be honest," Mychele said after a moment's hesitation. "I haven't decided yet. All I was thinking of was making my way out of Clonmel."

"But surely you chose Araluen for a reason?"

"Yeah, I did. But I didn't plan this far I guess." She said, uneasy about where this conversation was going.

"Well, don't think you're imposing on us when I say you can stay here until you figure that out. I know Will agrees; as I said, he's very interested in you." With that, Alyss left the girl to drop off to sleep and went inside.

* * *

As soon as Alyss was gone, Will flipped a chair backwards and sat facing Halt, grinning like a naughty boy.

"Good, she's gone. Halt, I-"

"Want to make him your apprentice."

"How did you…"

"It's obvious Will." Halt raised an eyebrow. "But aren't you getting ahead of yourself? Just because he helped you and can shoot and climb a bit, doesn't mean he'll make a good apprentice. You don't know anything about his character, his background, or who he is."

"I know enough. I just have a feeling he'll make a great apprentice."

Halt gave him a hard look, thinking. He had decided not to share his suspicions until they could be verified. Then he would decide what needed to be done. "What make you think you know him? Just a random boy showing up alone from Hibernia with no real reason. Isn't that something to consider?"

"You mention Hibernia as if it's a bad thing! Are you saying you think he might be a spy or criminal?"

"No, I'm saying look at the possibilities. Did you find out anything about him since last night?"

"Alyss mentioned that he said he came because his parents are dead, and he decided to make a new life in Araluen. She also mentioned that his parents died "around that time", when the Outsiders were in Clonmel. Halt, he's practically just like you!"

_That's what's so uncanny, _thought Halt.

"That doesn't mean anything. If you really think so, do what you like. But You'll have to run it by Crowley."

Will sat up and frowned. "What? I have to tell Crowley? Since when?"

"Standard rule. Either get approved by Crowley, or an appointed senior Ranger."

"But then how?..."

"How did I make you and Gilan apprentices? I broke the rule of course." Will rolled his eyes and propped his chin on his arms moodily.

"Of course."

* * *

King Sean sat up after a near sleepless night. His decision two days ago was plaguing him. This morning, the bright day failed to cheer him, the clear air failed to revive him. Dropping his head in his hands, he groaned to himself. Once again, a cool hand laid itself on his shoulder.

"Sean, talk to her."

He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "How can I? After what I've done. Do you know, Meredith, what Captain Peter told me she said to him?"

"What did she say Sean?" Meredith asked, pulling his hair away from his face and combing it with her fingers soothingly.

"She said, 'He's not my father.' " His voice was tinged with bitterness.

"Sean,"

He looked half over his shoulder at her.

"talk to her."

* * *

Sean didn't manage to get his resolve together after an unsuccessful attempt to see her that morning, but after supper, Meredith gave him a pleading look. With a sigh, he finally trudged up the last of the stairs leadenly, and stood before the locked door for a full minute. Then he knocked.

"Mychele?"

No reply. He tried again with no results. Reluctantly, he took the key from the guard and unlocked the door.

"Mychele, Im sorry, but you wouldn't answer the door…" His voice trailed off and he took in the wreckage of torn down tapestries and clothes strewn about.

"This isn't happening…"

He searched the room, hoping this was merely a fit of rage. But there was no sign of Mychele. He ran out of the room.

"Guards! Every man able search this castle. Princess Mychele is missing!"

Later, he was discussing with his personal council what should be done.

"My lord," said Thaed, his chief councilor. "We don't have any specialty trackers. The mounted guard are all we have for such matters."

"Thaed," Sean said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mychele is not a 'matter'. We must find her at all costs!" he banged his fist on the table. Thaed and several others looked uneasily at eachother. Catching their looks, Sean sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper, I just…I feel responsible for this."

"Don't be too hard on yourself my lord." Thomas, another councilor, said sympathetically. "There is, however, also the possibility that she was…kidnapped." He concluded grimly.

"What?" his head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Do you recall that there have been increasing reports of kidnappings in not only Clonmel, but throughout Hibernia? We believe," said Thaed. "That these kidnappings are connected, and Mychele may have been a target."

Sean pondered this for a moment. "Yes, she had just rescued a boy that had been kidnapped, hadn't she?" he laughed ruefully. "I didn't listen though."

"My lord?"

"Thaed, I think we need to put that Araluen treaty to use. We need a Ranger."

"Ah, Ranger Halt, your uncle, I presume?"

Sean stood decisively, looking as if he had just resolved on something that should have been done long since. "Yes, it's about time Halt found out about Ferris's daughter."

* * *

**A/N Dun dun DUUUUN…..Who, what, when, where, why, You ask? Not telling. *Sticks tongue out* Hee hee. Oh, and I don't have a clue how to pronounce Thaed either…Reviews r cookies.:3**


	11. Discoveries

**A/N I just want to restate that Sean finds out the day AFTER the day after she runs away. I know it wasn't very clear in the last chapter just when he finds out…**

Discoveries

When Mychele awoke, rubbing her eyes sleepily, the sun was high overhead; noon. Gaping, she sat up and stretched out her arms. Immediately, Lona rolled in the grass and to her feet, trotting to a gallop around the clearing. Mychele laughed at the gamboling Shetland.

"Lona, you silly goat! Sorry girl, your legs must've fallen asleep," she said. Stooping to pick up the fallen blanket that she'd slept in, Mychele noticed that the ties at the neck of her tunic had come undone. She hastily retied them.

_How long were they like that? I hope nobody saw…_

Since the opening was only just past her collar bone, Mychele didn't worry about it too much, wincing as she walked the short distance back to the cabin; her already sore limbs had stiffened in the cold. As she stepped onto the veranda, a tall brown horse came galloping to a halt in front of her and a man clad in livery jumped from the saddle. Her brushed past her without a glance and knocked feverishly on the door.

"Urgent message for Ranger Halt!" he yelled. Staring at him strangely, Mychele walked past, opened the door, and entered, shutting the door in his face.

"Halt, there's a messenger for you," she said blankly.

Two pairs of eyes with two raised eyebrows and an amused smile from Alyss greeted this blunt understatement, accompanied by ceaseless knocking. Slowly, Halt stood and walked to the door, opening it with the expression of one who has a distasteful duty to perform.

The messenger held up a sealed letter. "Sir! Urgent Message for-"

SLAM! Halt walked back to the table, indifferently breaking the seal on the purloined letter and unfolding it. After a moment's study, he threw it down and gathered his cloak and bow while Will eagerly snatched it up and read aloud as Halt left, informing then that he was going to the castle.

"…Messenger from King Sean of Clonmel, calling upon Halt's aid, on grounds of the mutual treaty." Read Will.

Inwardly nervous, Mychele forced herself to remain calm and sit at the table as if casually interested.

"From Clonmel? I wonder what King Sean could want. Why Halt specifically though?"

If they weren't a Ranger and a Courier, Will and Alyss would've shared a knowing look.

_We can't tell him about Sean and Halt being related._

Alyss answered. "I don't know any more than you do. Perhaps because Halt was so helpful with the Outsiders."

"You're from there," put in Will, "Do you know anything about the royal family?" He wanted to test what the youth knew.

"Well, I know that King Sean is the daughter of Princess Caitlyn, who was late King Ferris's sister. And as far as I know, Ferris never took a queen." She said.

"I didn't think so. He didn't have one when we were there, and then he died," confirmed Will. "What else do you know?"

Mychele's heart drummed against her ribcage. "I know of…rumors that say Ferris had a twin brother, who disappeared in his teen-years. But the rumors didn't tell of the reason," she stated, suddenly feeling very warm.

_I wish I could just lie, I wish I could lie, I wish I could lie…_Her thoughts ran a merry-go-round of desperation, but her mother had impressed honesty upon her too firmly for possible deceit. Despite her predicament, she maintained an air of ignorance.

"Yes, that's true," mused Will. "Well," he continued, "We won't know anything until Halt comes back and tells us himself. In the meanwhile, You haven't eaten Michael, help yourself." Will pushed a plate of baked potatoes and green beans over to Mychele and left the table, going outside. Alyss also rose and rummaged about for a large pot in the kitchen.

"You haven't had a bath since you came," she said to Mychele. "I'm sure your arms and legs hurt a lot, so a hot bath is just what you need." She set the pot of water on the iron stovetop to heat, and placed a round wooden basin in Mychele's room, constantly pouring in the water as soon as it was hot. Accordingly, after Mychele had finished her meal and scrubbed the dishes at Alyss's request, she went to bathe, somewhat nervously.

Securely locking the door and drawing the curtains, Mychele entered the steaming tub, gasping at the heat, but soon sighing blissfully as the hot water soothed away the ache and stiffness from her body. By the time she stepped out of the tub, leaving behind almost a week's worth of grime and sweat, she felt completely renewed and strengthened. Smiling unconsciously, she pulled clean clothes from her pack to dress in, savoring the luxury of it.

Just as she finished tying her tunic, clad in breeches and woolen stockings, a knock sounded at the door.

"Michael? If you're finished, can I come in?" It was Will's voice.

"Sure, gimmie a second." Toweling her hair, she moved the precautionary chair from the door and opened it. Will stepped through the threshold as Mychele turned to repack her bag. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, no, just checking on you." He glanced at the tub; the water was murky and dark. "Looks like you had a mud bath," he laughed. Mychele joined in. "Haha, doesn't it?"

After a moment, Will leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "But I do have something to ask you," he said, his face suddenly serious. Mychele finished her chore and looked at him, puzzled.

"Yeah? What is it?" she said, sitting on the side of the bed, facing the Ranger.

He paused, stroking his chin in consideration. "Why," he began, "Are you pretending to be a boy?"

Mychele froze. "What makes you think that?" she laughed. It sounded forced. "I'm not a girl, that's for sure."

"Can you prove that?"

Wisely, she stayed silent. After a bit, she faced him. "How did you know?"

"In the tree, you tunic was undone," he explained apologetically. "You were leaning forward while I adjusted the quiver strap. I saw the cloth underneath it, and guessed the rest."

Sighing in frustration, Mychele buried her face in her hands. "I should've known this would happen. I suppose you want to know everything now?" she said bitterly.

"No."

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean, no? I'm…you just…but…"

"I mean no. I don't want to know, don't need to know. There's only two people in the cabin right now, and as far as I know, those people are a Ranger named Will, and a boy named Michael." He grinned cheekily.

She opened her mouth, then closed it; opened it again, closed it again, and gave up. Shaking her head, she finally said, "You're the weirdest person I've ever met."

Will laughed, feeling like he'd just played the best joke ever. "I've heard that more than once. But, I have one more thing to ask." She looked up expectantly.

"Do you want to be my apprentice?"

* * *

Halt came back to the cabin just as they were finishing supper. He came in and helped himself to coffee, tormenting Will by ignoring all questions until Will was ready to explode; then he began to explain: Sean needed him to investigate a series of kidnappings, and a highly confidential matter that Halt hadn't been told of in full detail. It was highly urgent, the messenger from Clonmel had said, who happened to be the head of the castle guard himself. Baron Arald had agreed that Halt should go, and since there had strangely been many unexplained kidnappings in Redmont area as well, Halt was interested enough to go. But, more than that, he wanted to investigate his untold suspicions about Michael.

"But Halt," protested Will. "The gathering is in one week!"

"I know," he said calmly. "Me and you are the task force, aren't we? I think this is important enough to skip the gathering. Crowley trusts my judgment. Besides," he glanced at Michael. "You have someone else to annoy on the way there."

When Will had asked Michael to be his apprentice, he'd jumped up, shouting "What? But I'm a-" Then Will had clamped his hand over the boy's mouth, saying "I don't know what you're talking about. Do you want to or not?" After which, Michael readily agreed. Will had already convinced Alyss before-hand, and against Halt's warnings, decided to force Crowley's agreement by taking the boy straight to the gathering.

Will grinned wolfishly while Halt eyed Michael with an almost pitying look. Glancing from one to the other, Michael had the feeling of a cornered rabbit.

* * *

The next few days saw Michael and Will to the gathering, and Halt to Clonmel.

Halt entered Sean's private consulting room, finding himself and Sean to be the only ones there. After greeting his uncle warmly, Sean invited the Ranger to sit, getting right down to business.

"Well Sean, what's this urgent, confidential matter you called me over here for?"

Sean coughed to clear his throat and placed his hands on the spread of papers in front of him.

"These papers and documents led us, well, my wife Meredith specifically, to an astonishing discovery. After your broth- Ferris, after Ferris died, I didn't have the heart to disturb his things from the office. So, after I married Meredith, she took up the task for me. Among the papers, she found correspondence to an unknown person. To make a very complicated story short, Ferris had a wife."

Halt's brows creased fiercely, but he made no comment. Sean paused to assess his reaction, then continued.

"It seems that he'd secretly married a Pictan woman of small social standing. I guess he feared ridicule if he married a relatively poor woman publicly," Sean said with an embarrassed shrug; it was well known that Ferris had been a coward. "She gave up her home and lived near the coast, receiving irregular visits from Ferris, and secretly sending messages to a place where she would anonymously pick them up. One letter had been written by Ferris, but never sent. The date is about when the Outsiders showed up, so perhaps he didn't want to risk it being intercepted.

"Other letters showed that Ferris…had a daughter. She's lived with Meredith and I for three years. She's sixteen years old." He rubbed his neck sheepishly. "But it always seemed to me that she was only fourteen. That made her pretty mad I guess. But, she's gone Halt."

Halt had been listening intently throughout Sean's tale, puzzling over this information in his head. Sean thought he was taking the news amazingly well, but inside, he was shocked. Utterly and completely astounded. He was an uncle. Ferris had a child. Moreover, it almost definitely explained the boy, Michael. Apparently, "he" wasn't a boy.

"What do you mean gone? Where to?"

Sean sighed. "I don't know! That's what I need your help with. We had a…disagreement, about two weeks ago. I confined her to her rooms, and three days later, she was gone. I don't know if she was kidnapped, or simply ran away." Sean's expression looked deeply ashamed.

Countless questions knocked about Halt's head; he chose one.

"What happened to her mother?"

* * *

**A/N There's another chapter for ya'll! The last line doesn't seem like a big thing, but trust me, it's pretty important. *iz not trying to make you stay interested*** **teehee. Does Alyss seem OOC to ya'll? Srry bout that, I'm typing this chap in a hurry... Please review! I can't think of anything else to say, so toodle pip!;3**


	12. Apprentice to Noone

Apprentice to No-one 

Side by side, Lona, Tug, and Blaze rode into the clearing where the gathering was held. Earlier that day, Gilan had met them on the road after Mychele was, fortunate let's say, to experience the customary attempt at sneak-attacking eachother by Will and Gilan, who'd been more than a little shocked to hear Will's plan to make sure Crowley agreed, but immediately amused at the humor of it.

Will lead Mychele across the clearing to a spot that apparently was Will's usual place at the gathering, while Gilan set up a tent right next to theirs. The clearing was still relatively empty, with fifteen some tents scattered about; usually, three days were allowed for all fifty Rangers to show up. Will instructed Mychele to set up a tent, without telling her _how, _then discreetly watched to see how she managed. It took some time, and several mistakes, but once she got an idea of the structure, the tent was quickly assembled.

"Good work. You managed that reasonably well," he said. "Now, put your things inside and we'll make our way to see Crowley."

"Alright. Which tent is his? I didn't notice a particularly important looking tent anywhere," asked Mychele.

"Yes, that's done on purpose in case the gathering place is discovered, so Crowley won't be seen immediately; people might try to kill the commandant. Also, Crowley just likes being sneaky." Will grinned as he said it.

"I suppose he does," came a chuckle.

Mychele wheeled around. "Whoa! How did you do that?"

Before her was a stocky, sandy haired man with blue eyes crinkled into a smile. "I do it by practice. And who are you, young man?" he queried, glancing at Will with a raised eyebrow.

_That seems to be a pet expression for Rangers, _Thought Mychele. "I'm Michael Carey. Will wants me to be his apprentice." She spoke somewhat quietly, trying to minimize the accent; nonetheless, she saw several nearby heads turn slightly in her peripheral vision.

"Ah, is that so? Will,"

"I know, I know. Let's go talk about it in your tent, okay?"

"Alright then."

Mychele noted a slight sound of displeasure in the older man's voice as she followed Will and Crowley. Entering a tent that looked as non-descript as any other, They sat on low, compact stools, and Mychele told everything that had occurred since she'd arrived at the cabin at Crowley's request. After some consideration, and more details from Will, Crowley requested to talk to Will alone, pointing Mychele to a stream nearby where the apprentices would relax and have fun in their leisure time the first few days, which were set aside with no assessments. Essentially, it was a hangout for the boys to socialize.

Arriving on the scene, Lona in tow to get water, the first thing she noticed were three apprentices swimming in their trousers. There was one other boy on the bank, meticulously polishing his saxe knife; he looked about nineteen years old. One of the swimmers looked up at her.

"Hey look! A new boy!" The other two swimming boys looked around at her; the older boy continued to polish his knife. "What's your name? Who's your mentor? I'm Matt. Where're you from?" he swam to the bank, looking up expectantly.

Patting Lona and leading her to the stream a distance from Matt, Mychele answered the questions in turn. "Michael; Will Treaty, I think; not around here," was her evasive reply. She asked no questions in return, attempting to keep to her policy not to become too friendly with strangers.

"Michael, huh? That's a weird accent, what is it?"

Before Mychele could answer, the knife-polishing boy spoke up. "It's Hibernian."

Matt rolled his eyes. "That's stuffy Sage for you. Oh, and they're Pete, and Stick," he said, gesturing to the two boys behind him.

"Sage and Stick? What kind of names are those?"

"They're not, Matt just thinks he can give us nicknames," Said Stick dryly, standing up in the shallow water; he was aptly nicknamed, being tall and lanky.

"I see. What year are you four?" she asked.

"I-" Matt spoke up, but Pete tackled him from behind, dunking him under water, yelling "Loudmouth!" Stick took up the question.

"I'm a second year, Matt and Pete ate first, and Sage is fifth. How about you?"

"I've been an apprentice for about a week," she said.

Just then, Matt popped up, gasping and shaking water from his shaggy hair.

"Watch it Pete, you fathead!" He grabbed Pete in a headlock, simultaneously turning to talk to Mychele. "Hey, you said Will Treaty is your mentor? THE Will Treaty? What's he like? I'll bet he can shoot a thousand meters and wrestle a bear with one hand!"

Mychele couldn't hide a smirk at the ridiculous statement. "No, he's pretty normal, really funny. But he eats and sleeps and gets sick like a normal person."

Matt threw Pete off into the water. "No way, how'd know he gets sick? He's invincible!"

"Well, he was sick when I met him, so they asked me to help." She shrugged lightly, somewhat bragging.

Matt jumped up onto the bank, standing ten centimeters taller than her. "A runt like you? There's no way Will Treaty had to ask _you_ for help! I bet you can't even swim, and that's why you didn't go in," he smirked.

"Shuddup Matt!" said Pete. "Don't take him seriously, he says those things to everyone, the dummy," he said to Mychele.

Mychele gritted her teeth. "Oh, a joker is he? I can probably shoot better than you, even though I just became an apprentice. Don't take me lightly," she said, facing up to the boy angrily, her accent becoming clearly audible as she raised her voice.

"Aw, the wee Hibernian can't speak without his wee accent?"

Stick and Pete looked between the two anxiously, sensing the tension mounting; Sage glanced at them once, then sheathed his saxe and began work on his throwing knife. Clenching her fists, Mychele turned away hotly and joined Lona by the water, patting her horse's neck to calm herself. The irrepressible boy decided, unwisely, to throw in a last word; Matt called after her:

"Even your horse is runty! Weird Hibernian shaggy-thing."

Mychele whirled back to face him. "You wanna fight smart-mouth? You take that back, or you're gonna fight one mad Hibernian, and you can bet 'wee' doesn't come into it." She paced towards him aggressively. Pete and Stick jumped out of the stream.

"Hey, no reason to fight. Matt,"

"No," Matt interrupted Stick. "He wants to fight, let him. But," he addressed Mychele "If I win, I throw you in the stream." He smirked in satisfaction.

"Sure, and at the end of it, I'll not be the one in the water, you can bet your bow, if you have one, on that." Without warning, she threw a left hook to his jaw, following with a right swing. He reeled back from the first blow, blocking the right with his arm. He pushed the arm out and punched to the gut with his right. She took the blow, doubling over as the air was knocked from her unexpectedly, but instead of straightening, she rammed forward into his stomach, meeting his head with her knee when he gasped and bent over. His head snapped up, and he immediately threw a strong punch at her face, hitting squarely in the eye. Enraged, she forgot all pretense of proper fighting and leapt at him, yelling an odd mix of Pictan and Hibernian.

They both fell backwards; the stronger boy instantly threw her off and jabbed her stomach hard with his elbow. Half yelling, half coughing, Mychele dove back on top of him, punching crazily at his face while he easily fended of the mad blows with his arms, glancing up to see Sage glaring down at them, shaking his head.

"You sorry lot, call that fighting? You fight like kittens."

Matt grinned and rolled over, throwing Mychele off, and standing up. Mychele stood up, breathing heavily. She charged at him again, but he easily evaded her and landed a blow in the face. She backed away, head clearing slightly, but she acted as if she was still enraged and tried to ram him again; when he raised his knee to block the ram, she straightened quickly, jumping sidewise and elbowing his back, causing him to stumble awkwardly off-balance. She jumped on his back to finish the fight.

* * *

Several Rangers were gathered in the middle of the clearing, discussing what else, but the new-comer. A middle aged Ranger was speaking:

"True to Halt's ways, Will hasn't even had the boy approved yet," He said with a chuckle.

A younger man spoke up. "Is it safe to have a foreigner as a Ranger? I don't think Will knows much about him, and he already knows where the gathering is."

"Now, don't be so hasty Arden," a senior Ranger put in. "Foreigner means hardly anything, or didn't you know Halt himself is a foreigner? Will may be young, but he's experienced, and I for one think the boy can't be far wrong if Will trusts him enough to bring him here."

Arden shrugged, "If you say so, I'm not too experienced myself."

"If you're skeptical about it, why don't you go see what he's up too? He went to the stream with the other boys," said a fourth man.

"Yes, and check on Darren for me while you're there. The boy's probably cleaning his equipment again instead of relaxing," he laughed.

"Alright, I will." Arden left the group and jogged a short way to the stream. As he neared the place, he heard sounds of scuffling and some yelling. He sped up to a run and burst upon the scene to see a short boy hauling Matt up to his feet, one arm twisted behind him, dirt and blood from his nose smearing his face. The shorter boy shoved Matt to the edge of the stream, yelling at him in Hibernian.

* * *

As soon as Mychele was gone, Crowley cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Will," he began "This was very unwise of you: I don't see any objections to the boy, based on what I've heard, but bluntly speaking, you can't have an apprentice."

Will's brow furrowed. "What's that mean? Why can't I have an apprentice?" he demanded.

"Will, you and Halt are the task force, did you forget that?"

"No. What does it have to do with this?"

"Unlike other Rangers, you frequently have to take long journeys, involving missions that we can't afford to compromise. Because of that, your apprentice's training would be interrupted and perhaps neglected. Now," he raised a hand to stall Will's rising objection "I know you wouldn't willingly neglect his training, but that's the problem: I'll need you to fully concentrate on the task at hand, not worry about your apprentice, who could compromise the mission."

"I went on missions with Halt, I assume other apprentices join their mentors on missions, what makes this any different?" he said.

"That's true, but you know that the special missions I assign to you and Halt take on a whole other nature from the regular Ranger duties and missions. I'm sorry Will, I really am, but I've already thought this through; I knew you'd come to this someday, but I didn't think that you'd bring him straight here…"

Will sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I see. Sorry Crowley, I guess it wasn't the best idea. But, I've already told him he could be my apprentice, and obviously he's already seen the gathering. You're just going to hope he doesn't let it slip and send him on his way?"

Crowley stood and coughed importantly. "Ahem, I think, Will, that you are forgetting who I am." He glanced sidewise. "I _am_ the commandant you know, and fortunately, the commandant can _appoint_ apprentices as well as approve them." Will absorbed this.

"Hmm, interesting; I didn't know that. Well, I'm a bit disappointed, but that's the best solution. Anyway, Alyss just told me that's she's expecting a baby, so I can't take him anyway." Folding his arms behind his head, he gave a satisfied smirk. Crowley's eyebrow shot up.

"You planned this, didn't you? You knew you couldn't take him because of Alyss, so you decided to let me think I was being a genius here, is that it?"

Will nodded. "Yup. Though I didn't know you could do that anyway, so that _was_ a bit disappointing."

Crowley shook his head. "Honestly Will, do you want to make me go grey now that you've completely greyed Halt's head?"

A grin was his response; then he asked, "Who do you have in mind for his mentor?"

* * *

"Téigh chuig inchinn abhainn bacach!" With that, the boy shoved Matt into the stream.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Four heads whipped around to see the irate young Ranger, hands akimbo*, disapproval etched on his face.

Pete stumbled over his word in his haste to explain. "Arden sir! You see, Michael, uh, well Matt…"

Arden ignored him and turned Michael to face him. "You're treading on dangerous ground boy. Why are you fighting with our apprentices?"

Sullenly, Michael looked up at him. "He insulted my horse…sir…I don't take insults lightly."

"Oh, so you decided to betray the trust Will placed in you and act so shamefully? You're pretty arrogant for a boy who hasn't even been approved yet."

A serious expression on his face, Matt climbed out at the stream for the second time. "Err, Arden, it's not really his fault. I kinda taunted him and pretty much asked him to fight."

"Is that so?" said Arden. "That's not important now. You boys, all of you, need to understand that getting angry and fighting won't solve your problem. Yes, we're Rangers, we fight for a living, but we don't fight in anger and because of small minded offence." He addressed Michael, who was staring somewhat shamefacedly at the ground; his left eye was swollen nearly shut. "If you're accepted, you'll learn lots of things, but none of it will do you any good if you can't learn that it takes a real man to walk away from a stupid fight." He glowered over the two penitent boys; Michael turned and faced Matt, offering his hand.

"Sorry Matt, I shouldn't have gotten so mad about that."

Matt grasped his hand firmly. "Ah, I should apologize. I lose my head sometimes." He shook his head admiringly. "But that was some fight, I'll hand it to you," he grinned crookedly, his jaw swelling from the initial blow, blood dripping from his nose. Facing him with one good eye and a dirtied face, Michael returned the smile. Arden nodded approvingly.

"Alright, now clean yourselves up before you go back to camp. I can bet your mentors will have something to say to you."

The boy's faces fell a bit, but Michael knelt by the stream to wash his face while Matt picked leaves out of his hair. Suddenly, he leapt over to Michael and shoved him unceremoniously into the stream.

"Payback!"

Michael came up soaked and spluttering; for a moment the spectators thought he would get angry again. He dove at the bank and grabbed Matt's ankle, pulling him back in.

"Join me for a swim why don't you!"

Laughing and smiling, Pete and Stick jumped in after them and joined the good-natured bantering and dunking while Arden and Darren, alias Sage, looked on.

Behind a tree, Will and Crowley observed the whole affair.

"Well?" breathed Crowley.

"I think," Will whispered back. "Arden is the perfect choice."

* * *

*hands on hips

The thing that Mychele shouts when she shoves Matt in, according to google translate, is Irish for "Go to the river lame brain!"

**A/N Nice and long, no? I know you were probably hoping to hear more from Halt, but htis is what you get. Big thanks to Bralt, who helped me a while back with the reason why she can't be Will's apprentice. She might not remember it though...haha. And she helped me with Arden's name. :3 Please review, I hope Mychele isn't turning out to be a Mary-Sue, I'm trying to give her flaws. :P How do yo think the character development is going for her? So, pleazzzze review!:D **


	13. The Dangers of Swimming

**A/N ****I know lots of you are confused about the whole "not a girl Ranger" thing. I know, it **_**looks**_** like I'm contradicting myself, but I can't explain without giving it away. For now, keep in mind that she's an **_**apprentice **_**right now. Not a Ranger. If it worked out better as a girl ranger thing, I probably would make her one anyway, as I originally planned, but one, it's rlly cliché; two, I think the idea I have is more interesting anyway. So, please bear with the confusion. :P**

The Dangers of Swimming

While the four apprentices busied themselves at their sport, Will stepped out from behind the tree. Crowley patted him on the shoulder and turned back to camp.

"I'll leave this to you Will, I need to get back to preparations," said Crowley. Will nodded and walked over to stand by Arden.

" 'Morning Arden."

Though Will had approached silently, Arden greeted him nonplussed.

" 'Moring Will. Did you see that?"

"Yes, actually. I was worried he might be too arrogant, even though he's been acting all polite around me and Alyss so far."

"Doesn't that worry you, as his mentor? That is, if Crowley approved him?"

"Not much. Boys aren't saints, but he'll learn. Actually, Crowley did approve him," Will looked over at the wrestling apprentices. "But, I can't take an apprentice right now."

Arden snapped a puzzled look at Will; he paid no attention.

"Then why did you bring him here? Surely not to just disappoint him."

"No."

The moment stretched out awkwardly, and Will didn't move to break the silence. Arden knew, as did any former apprentice, that a Ranger won't answer just because you ask. Finally, Will turned to face the younger man.

"Crowley was looking for another Ranger to take Michael. But who? After that little scene, both of us think _you _would make an excellent choice," he said, with a twinkle in his eye as he saw Arden's eyebrows rise slightly.

"Crowley agrees too?"

Will nodded.

"Well…I…I only graduated last year." Obviously, he was taken off-guard by the proposal.

"You're still a Ranger though. Do you think you're ready for an apprentice?" Secretly, Will was disappointed that he wouldn't get a chance for his own apprentice, but he knew well that not all Ranger's took apprentices. One, because there wasn't always a good choice: the Ranger lifestyle required specific abilities. Two, there would be a surplus if all fifty Rangers graduated apprentices.

Quietly, Arden ran his hand through his hair, looking at Michael not far off. "Honestly, I don't think I'm ready. But I'm willing to do all I can if both you and Crowley think I'm a good choice," he said with an open expression.

"Great," Will grinned, "I'll tell him later. They look busy right about now." They laughed as a splash rained down on them, remembering doing exactly the same thing as apprentices. Then they walked back to camp, discussing Arden's new apprentice.

PAGE BREAK

Heedless of whatever was going on around her, Mychele bent all her energies to dunking the three boys, and avoiding being dunked. Gradually, they established teams by silent agreement: Mychele and Matt against Stick and Pete. Without realizing what might happen, Mychele gradually discarded cloak, boots, and jerkin amidst the splashing, wrestling and tackling.

Diving under, she kicked across the invisible line separating the teams and grabbed Stick's ankle while he engaged in a splash-war with Matt. With a solid yank she dragged his feet out from under him and came up for air. Stick stumbled back in the water, giving Matt an opportunity to pounce on him, taking them both under.

_Now where'd Pete get too…_

Just as she formed the thought, a tackle from behind knocked her forward. Yelling triumphantly, Pete wrapped his legs around her waist, grabbing fists full of hair to stay on. Gasping in surprise, Mychele staggered unevenly in the waist-high water, attempting to throw him off. In the confusion, they ended up behind Matt and Stick. The boys came up for air, gasping and shaking their hair like dogs, and inevitably careened into Pete and Mychele. She tripped and fell forward. Pete grabbed on with both hands to keep his balance, clinging to her shoulders. As they went under, rolling around and fighting to get the upper hand, Mychele's eyes widened as Pete's hands grabbed her back from behind, dangerously close to her chest.

A sudden constriction of fear seized her. She fought to the surface and dodged a leap from Pete.

"Truce!" she gasped, holding out a hand and leaning against the bank. Pete gave her a confused look.

"Truce? Why?"

When they realized that Pete and Mychele had stopped, Stick and Matt froze mid-wrestle to query them.

"What's up with you two?" asked Matt.

"Yeah, something wrong?" joined Stick.

"I kind-of have a cramp. I guess I'm not very used to swimming. I- I think I'll go back to camp," she said, flushed and breathing heavily. She climbed back onto the bank amidst dismayed looks from the three.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't spoil the fun!" Called Matt.

"Uh, sorry. Maybe some other time." She grabbed her things and hurried off with Lona.

Stick and Matt turned to Pete. "Hey, what happened?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, we were just wrestling underwater and suddenly he jumped up and called out truce." Luckily for Mychele, he hadn't discovered anything.

"Well," said Matt, "It's no fun anymore now. And I dunno about you guys, but I'm starving!" Matt jumped out and ran after Mychele to camp. Briefly sharing a look, Pete and Stick hastily scrambled out after him and jogged to catch up to him. They split up as they entered the gathering grounds, going to their own tents.

Matt came up to his small tent, which really only had enough room for storage and a narrow space for sleeping, and was surprised to see Michael standing outside an adjacent tent.

"Hey, Michael! Is that your tent?" he called.

He turned from wringing out his cloak and saw Matt nearby. "Looks like it. Coincidence, huh?"

"I'll say." He paused for a moment, dodging into his tent and came out with dry pants and a bundle of clothes slung over his shoulder. Pulling on his shirt, he asked "Are you alright? You left kinda suddenly back there."

Michael's brow creased slightly, looking down at his cloak. "I'm fine, I guess I'm not a strong swimmer and all that," he said evasively. Glancing to the right out of the corner of his eye, Michael glared at the smirk on Will's face; the Ranger had been sitting unobserved for a while, sipping an ever-present mug of black coffee. Before Matt could inquire further, Michael ducked into his low tent, dirt sticking to his wet stockings. Matt finished dressing and sat on a cut tree stump to tug on his boots, puzzling to himself as Michael didn't emerge from the tent, amidst noises of frustration and occasionally a lump appearing in the thick fabric as the person inside bumped into the roof.

A quiet chuckle escaped from Will's lips at the muffled exclamations, none of which sounded particularly nice, causing Matt to notice him for the first time.

"Oh, Will sir, didn't see you there. Um, what is Michael doing?"

"I imagine he's wrestling a bear form the sound of it," said Will. Suddenly, with a yelp of surprise from inside, the tent collapsed on itself. Michael struggled around in the lump of fabric as Matt and Will laughed their guts out. Finally, furious and raging, Michael crawled out from under the tangle of canvas and poles, one stocking hanging off his foot, jerkin askew and wild haired.

"Die in a hole idiot!" He growled at the dilapidated tent, sending Will and Matt into fits of laughter. He turned and glared at them, straightened himself out, and stalked haughtily past, hair sticking out in ways neither Will nor Matt had thought possible.

**A/N Sorry for the hiatus! I partially had this chap typed up, but lost inspiration and kind of got really lazy and wouldn't make myself get on the computer. :P I know, I'm a fail-ious and fickle writer *collapses on hands and knees dramatically* If anybody is still following this, I'll die happy and give you all my cookies in my will. Please bear with me, I'm just a very inconsistant person.**

**On another note, tell me if the Michael/Mychele thing is confusing here, I couldn't figure out when to call her what. Until next time, ~Mychele **


	14. Abandonment

Abandonment

_Many questions knocked around in Halt's head; he chose one:_

"_What happened to his wife?"_

As Halt listened to Sean tell him everything concerning "Michael" and her mother, he felt his fury grow; every new piece of information only angered him more. When finally Sean's voice trailed off apologetically, Halt was glaring daggers into the table with barely contained, but not concealed, wrath.

"You mean to tell me," He gritted out, looking up into his nephew's eyes. "That Ferris married this woman and _abandoned _her on the edge of human contact? Left his _daughter_ to fend for herself?"

"Halt…" began Sean in a placating tone. "Ferris may have left them, but they weren't uncared for. They corresponded, and he provided food and comforts for them. He hardly aban-"

SLAM! Halt's fist pounded into the table. "Do _not _make excuses for him Sean," he said, his eyes like smoldering coals. "He may have cared for you like a son, but you are nothing to what Mychele should have been. He helped you because it was convenient for him. Do _NOT_ mistake that for a good deed." His outburst ended, Halt suddenly realized the pained expression on Sean's face. The disbelief.

"_He helped you because it was convenient." "You are nothing to what Mychele should have been."_

The silence stretched out uneasily. Halt stood, shoving his chair back in the process, and strode to the door. Neither had noticed, but they had been talking so long that it was now evening, and the sun was starting to set.

Halt jerked the door open to see the startled face of Queen Meredith; her hand was stretched out as if reaching for the knob. She pulled it away quickly and stood to the side as Halt walked past, managing a barely acceptable nod.

Timidly, Meredith entered the room to see Sean sitting back, still with that pained expression.

"Sean? What happened?"

"I don't really know. With Halt, you never really _can_."

* * *

The evening turned to night, and the night enveloped the castle in heavy darkness. Halt had disappeared and never showed up for supper. Needless to say, Sean wasn't exactly keen to go search him out and deal with the consequences, and neither were the servants. So, Halt was let alone, wherever he might have been. Which was exactly what he wanted.

Halt claimed a random room in the guest wing and barred himself in. He needed to think, he needed space.

Leaning his back against the window frame, Halt stared at the stone floor as he replayed the conversation of that afternoon through his mind. Something besides Ferris was bothering him, but he couldn't figure out _what_. It'd been drifting through his subconscious for a while, but he picked up on it at last: Michael was Mychele.

It made perfect sense, everything concerning Michael fit into Sean's story: the similarity to Halt, Ferris's twin; the name similarity; the circumstances. There was no doubt in his mind about it. Though, Halt hadn't remotely suspected that _he_ was a _she_, and _she _was his _niece_, of all things.

Not a man easily surprised, Halt was nonetheless caught completely off balance. Having met Mychele, seen what kind of a person she was and suspecting what had driven her to run away, even if she didn't know it, Halt became more infuriated with Ferris. Every time he thought about his dead brother, Halt's brow furrowed and his mind darkened. With an aggravated growl, Halt turned to stare out into the thick night; his eyes matched it for darkness. A stiff breeze blew in; the chill wind cooled his hot face, lifting his hair and blowing through his cloak. The tree tops at the forest's edge swayed and knock each other, their boughs bending in the wind. They seemed to beckon him.

Without a second thought, Halt pulled out a coil of rope from a pouch on his belt; a collapsible grapnel was tied to one end. He unfolded it, hooked it over the casement, and zipped swiftly to the ground, landing catlike. In a matter of minutes, he was beyond the wall and disappearing into the night.

He knew exactly where he was going.

Soon, Halt stood at the foot of a small hill. At its top stood a headstone Halt had known was there, and another beside it that he hadn't.

"Hello _brother._" The sarcastic greeting echoed bitterly around the clearing. Though he came to Ferris's grave without knowing why, he was furious at his brother, dead though he was, because he thought that Ferris would have been smarter than to make the same mistake their father had: abandoning his children.

In their childhood days, Ferris and Halt had been close: playing together, training together, even sharing the same bed. They had separate beds available, but the twins always wanted to be near each other, that's how close they were.

Too soon, their father became caught up in power-hungry state affairs. He almost never talked to his children beyond arranging tutors for them and ordering special classes for Halt. Both sons felt the deprivation of a father keenly, and each tried to cope in their own ways. But, Halt now knew, being the heir caused a jealousy to fill the void in Ferris's heart such that he tried to take his brother's life.

Halt thought Ferris had known that, that he wouldn't do the same thing that had caused them so much pain, that he would treat his own daughter, his heir, better than that.

Thinking about it made the fire rekindle in Halt's eyes, he glared with such intensity that it could have killed had Ferris not been dead already. His dark gaze swept over the second headstone.

"_What happened to his wife?"_

_Sean paused. "She died shortly before we found her."_

* * *

Michael sat hunched over next to Arden's fire, wrapped up to his nose in his large brown cloak, tightly grasping a mug of black coffee. He'd relocated his tent to be next to his new mentor's. The gathering had officially started that evening; there was no special ceremony, no speeches. Just a roll call, and an announcement of all the apprentices and their mentors. Michael learned that besides him and the three boys he'd met a few days ago, there were four other apprentices. Not many, considering that there were fifty Rangers.

Melancholy surrounded the boy as he gazed into the fire.

"_Mum, do you love Papa?" Seven year old Mychele looked seriously into her mother's eyes._

"_Yes, I do. Do you love him Mychele?"_

_A brisk nod. "Does Papa love _you_?"_

_A pause. "…Yes, he does."_

_Mychele scooted her stool closer to her mum's and propped an elbow on her knee. "Then why doesn't he take us to live at his big, big castle? Why doesn't he come visit me Mum?"_

_Her mum looked away sharply, accidentally smearing the ink on the letter she was writing. _

"_Mum, why are you crying?"_

_She quickly wiped away the unbidden tear, leaving a black smudge in its stead. She held Mychele's small, brown hand in her large pale one._

"_Mychele, listen carefully and never forget what I'm about to tell you. Hiding a serious truth is the exact same as lying outright. Never, EVER lie, not even if it's hiding the truth."_

Lost in reverie, Michael's frown deepened.

_Sorry mum, too late now._

Across the fire, Arden eyed his moody apprentice uneasily. The boy's friends had been over at their fire earlier, but they soon left, picking up on Michael's blue funk.

"What are you thinking about Michael? You've been in high dudgeon all night."

Mychele glanced at Arden, sighed, and said: "I'm thinking about my father."

He nodded encouragingly.

"…I'm afraid I might be too much like him."

Arden's eyebrow flickered. "Afraid? Why's that?"

Michael kicked a cinder into the fire. "Dun' wanna talk 'bout it," he mumbled. Tossing the dregs of his cup into the flames, he rose and ducked into his tent. He couldn't help but mentally answer the question:

_Because he was a liar too._

* * *

**A/N Here's another late chapter, hope I got Halt right. I can't believe what I was gonna go with before I talked to Bralt…it wasn't like Halt at all…Seriously, no pressure on the girl, but if you need help with your Halt, talk to Bralt. **

**Haha, feel like I'm advertising here. ;) Anywho, please review and tell me if you likey, I'm bringing out some of Mychele's insecurities and stuff, or trying to, so this gets more interesting. :3 Thanks again to Bralt, I was majorly stuck on this chap and didn't even realize it….**

**~Mychele**


	15. Escape

**NOTICE! Chaps 4-6 have been revised and re-uploaded as of 5/4/13; I will being doing this several other chapters aswell. Nothing is changed plot-wise, but thanks to a review I got that motivated me to see how bad my old writing rlly was; I cringed, cut, revised, and voila! Please check it out if you can, feedback much appreciated! Thanks so much! ~Mychele**

Escape

He'd escaped.

The water poisoning brought down the Hibernian captives the same night of Will's crisis, claiming Billy; but Arrat was by far the stronger of the two, recovering against the odds. And he escaped. Many underestimated the seldom-spoken man, and for many, it was the last thing they did.

In a dark underground tunnel, left by coal miners, Arrat bowed deeply to the man seated behind an enormous desk, illuminated on either side by a smoking torch in its animal-skull sconce behind him. This was their leader. The mastermind behind the mysterious happenings that recently befell the Hibernian people, and yet more recently, the Araluen people as well.

"Arrat, I have been informed of all that has happened. Do you realize who, exactly, shot that fool Barney that night?"

"I do m'lud."

"Do you know what you must do to remain living?"

"I do, m'lud."

"Then do it, and do not return until then."

Arrat bowed deeply once more, and left the smoke filled chamber.

* * *

Michael mumbled blearily, rolling over in sleep. Sound penetrated the wall of sub-conscious.

"Hmm? Wazzat?..."

Suddenly, cold air rushed in, a voice shattering the last vestiges of sleep.

"I said rise and shine cup-cake! Get out of bed before the sun does and I might not make you run laps around the entire camp!"

Michael sat bolt upright, deprived of his blanket, and stared up at his mentor in bleary-eyed alarm.

"What….it's before sunrise…"

"Precisely. Time to get up. C'mon, c'mon, the first assessments of the Gathering are about to start."

Jumping up, Michael hastily pulled on stockings, struggling with his boots. "What, you mean I have to be assessed? I haven't started training! What if I don't pass? What do I-"

"No, you're not being assessed you ninny, you're watching! Hurry up, we're late already." With that, Arden strode out of the tent, leaving his confused apprentice to hurry after him, glaring at the sunless morning sky:

"Hooray for the life of an apprentice."

Arden, however, was having slightly more pleasant thoughts.

_Who would have thought that bossing around an apprentice would be so fun?_

* * *

In the following weeks, Mychele grew accustomed to the daily life of an apprentice: rising before the sun, training rigorously in Ranger bowmanship, knife skills, camouflage, geography and strategy on the basic level of first years. When she wasn't busy with one of these, she was watching the assessments of the other apprentices, learning by observation and listening to the senior instructors attentively, which pleased Arden. Other times, she was either riding Lona, taking turns at guarding with one of the other Rangers, or, since Arden had been made aware of her healer's training, studying under a retired Ranger who was the head healer of the Corps.

Though not totally unused to the life of training and little leisure, Mychele found this new life of discipline difficult to submit to. Formerly, she'd been her own master; now, she was forced not only to play the game of being "Michael", but to live under authority. Authority from which she couldn't escape as easily as riding off into the woods.

And her double life was taking a heavier toll than she'd thought possible- emotionally, and mentally.

Walking into the circle of Matt's campfire one evening, long after the sun had retired, and not so long after training had ended, "Michael" collapsed on the ground next to his companion.

"Ahh, how can you still be smiling after a day like today Mattie," he growled as he reached for the coffee pot.

"Aw, c'mon Michael, it's not so bad as all that. I did well on my assessments, so of course I'd feel good. Besides, what good did it ever do anyone to frown?"

"It shut up overly-cheerful Araluens," Michael half-muttered. Matt either pretended not to hear, or was having too much fun at the Hibernian's expense to care. He grinned obnoxiously.

"Tomorrow's always another day Michael."

"Aye, don't remind me, I have a geography lesson," groaned Michael in despair. Where He excelled in athletics and observation, Michael lacked miserably in academics.

"Why do you do so bad at book-lessons?" said Matt. "You have inhuman amounts of concentration up until the very moment you face a piece of paper. Then you fly to pieces." Laughing, he sipped from the nearly-empty mug at hand.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily. "I don't know, maybe I have too much on my mind."

"Really? Maybe that's why: when you're say, shooting or riding, the physical activity takes up all your concentration, but when you're not doing anything, there's nothing to distract you from whatever's on your mind." He laughed. "It's almost like you can't escape from yourself."

Michael looked up. "Y'know, that may have been the first word of sense you've said all day."

Matt grinned. "So then saying 'you're almost the best apprentice archer' earlier today was nonsense?"

A smile quirked the corner of Michael's mouth. "Yeah, because I _am _the best."

As the two continued to josh each other, laughing at themselves and talking easily about the activities of the day, Michael was surprised at himself for being so comfortable with the boy, once having resolved not to make any emotional attachments when he came to Araluen. But, the irrepressible youth couldn't fail to make him smile even when he was in the worst of moods, or lowest of spirits.

Eventually, they fell into companionable silence. A sudden memory of another such time came to mind, only the person across the fire wasn't Matthew. Mychele's lingering smile faded.

"Y'know Matt," she said in a subdued voice, "you really remind me of someone."

"Oh?" He looked at her, curiosity piqued; Mychele never spoke about her life before the Ranger Corps. "Who's that?"

"Someone I used to know."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Okay then, that tells me everything. What's his name?"

Mychele paused. "His name's Aedan."

* * *

Returning early in the morning from his sojourn in the woods, Halt offered no explanation to the questioning looks directed at him by Sean, who didn't yet dare to actually ask them yet, seeing the Ranger's dark mood. Halt couldn't tell why, but he didn't want to say anything about Mychele just yet. Knowing that Sean and Meredith were extremely anxious about her, nonetheless Halt kept his discovery to himself. He didn't like to share information until he'd formed a complete picture, and Halt didn't feel like he had all the pieces to this puzzle yet.

His reverie at the breakfast table was shattered by Sean's question:

"Halt, you're not mad that I didn't tell you sooner, are you? I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but…" He shrugged apologetically.

"No, I'm not mad. Not at you. But I need time to figure out how to go about handling the situation. You think the reported kidnappings have some connection?" Halt diverted Sean's attention to the other problem at hand.

"Well, I'm not positive there's a connection-"

Captain McNamara appeared beside Sean with an envelope in hand. "Sorry to interrupt you Sir, but there's a new report. This time, the missing persons are from the castle."

**A/N Sorry for the long hiatus, AGAIN. Not to make excuses, but as my readers may or may not have known, I wasn't allowed to use the computer during Advent, before Christmas, and also during Lent, which is before Easter; there's only a month in between, so I was too lazy to start posting again, only to stop for Lent, so yeah. Plus I've been having zero inspiration for like, ever.**

***starts singing to computer* "WE! Have NEVER, EVER, worked on Mychele in forever! Like, EVER." ;)**

**NOTICE! I've been revising some of the earlier chaps., since one reviewer mentioned that some parts weren't too well written, and I completely agree after reading them again. X( I won't change the main plot, but some things will be better explained and the composition is better, I hope. :)**

**Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I promise to get back to as many as I can, thank you for so mush support! You guys rlly motivated me to get this chap out and start revising. :D Luv ya!**

**~God Bless, Mychele**


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